Eccentric Odium
by SierraKathleen
Summary: After a crazy night in South Dakota, a new "friend" inhabits Castiel's body. Suddenly, Sam and Dean find their beloved angel threatening to smite Dean where he stands. They soon realize that there is more to Cas than meets the eye. Set Pre-Finale Season 5
1. Prologue

**Disclaimer: **I own nothing, Supernatural belongs to Eric Kripke and large television corporations such as the CW. Any and all of the following is completely fictional and fan-made.

**Author's Note: **I really must thank _anaapenas _on YouTube for the inspiration of this fan fiction. If you're unfamiliar with her work, I deeply implore you to go and check it out…. NOW!!

www (dot) youtube (dot) com / anaapenas

Out of all serious though, she does unquestionable justice to the ever lovely Dean//Castiel couple – especially with her "Bad Romance" video, which provided much of the stimulation for this story ^_^

**Summary: **After a peculiar night in Art Alley, Sam and Dean find their angel – _changed_. So much, in fact, Castiel threatens to smite Dean where he stands. Talk about a Love/Hate relationship….

* * *

– **Eccentric Odium –**

Castiel panted heavily as he stormed down the dark alleyway, his dress shoes splashing in a thin trail of muddy water as he went along. Hesitantly, his sapphire eyes dared to steal a glance over his shoulder – _it_ was still coming full force. With piercing black eyes and a smug grin of the utmost certainty, _it _didn't even vacillate as they strode after Castiel with much stealth. Cas directed his gaze in front of him once more, stumbling on some loose trash before staggering onto a nearby run down car. He leaned against the hood of the rusty vehicle momentarily, attempting to collect his thoughts. Gasping air down hastily, the thrashing sound of his heart echoed in his ears. A certain staleness filled the air, as if cutting of the supply of oxygen itself – none too soon a devilish snicker ricocheted from the graffiti covered bricks, which lined either side of this asphalt confinement.

Castiel's eyes widened in terror as he began to stride once more, as fast as Jimmy Novak's legs would carry him. "You cannot run, Castiel," _it_ said with clear authority, "I am always one step ahead of you."

The words burned into Cas like a red hot iron – he wasn't going to escape, not this time. God had blessed him with miracles before, but the end was inevitable now. In fact, he hadn't felt emotions like this since, since he'd been yanked from his vessel's body. Castiel had only been slightly considering disobedience then, but being forcibly taken back to Heaven had truly established fear within him. Now, he felt as though it were happening to him all over again – he was on the run for as far as he could go, but the walls were closing in, and this time there was no safe haven.

With a twist of their hand, _it_ pulled Castiel's legs out from beneath him, causing his body to fall to the pavement below. Cas tried his best to crawl along, struggling all the way, but _its_ grip was far too strong on him. At long last, _it_ had finally caught up, merely standing over him with triumph gleaming in their coal eyes. "Go on," Castiel taunted, "slaughter me here, you bastard."

_It_ bore a deep and shining smile. "You don't realize who I am, do you?" _it _asked patiently.

"You are blasphemous," Castiel grunted, positioning himself against the wall which lay just behind him.

"That may be," _it_ sighed, "but I command legions, for we are many."

Castiel tilted his head in utter confusion. He continued with his mockery of before, "What of it then? You have your chance, slay me from where you stand."

Gradually _it_ squatted down, until they were both at eye level. "Dearest angel, why would I wish to do that?" _it _asked sarcastically, lifting a hand to caress Cas's face, "I've something so much better that awaits you." With a firmer grip, _it_ clenched Castiel's cheeks within its grasp forcing his jaw open ever so slightly.

Opening their own mouth, a stream of yellow light began to emulate from _its_ lips. The light seemed to travel from one person to another in a long strand, Castiel coughing and gurgling on it as if it were poison as it entered his throat. From afar, it would've appeared as though _it_ were kissing the angel, and suddenly there was a bright wave of light – Castiel sat motionless on the ground for a moment, watching blankly as _its_ host dropped to the ground. Now catching a glimpse of the victim's slit wrists, it was evident that this person was dead long before _it _had even entered the chosen inhabitance.

Castiel arose slowly, attempting his best to stay balanced as he clutched the wall desperately for support. His legs felt extremely weak, especially in the knee area, causing him to topple over onto the asphalt once more. He let out heaving coughs, which sounded more like a small dogs bark as they emulated from him. Two small blots of oozing black combined with blood spewed from his mouth, a thick strand still clinging to his bottom lip as he choked.

Eventually, Cas was able to position his body upright once more. Tunneling his hand deep into his trench coat pockets, he retrieved a cell phone. It had become a mandatory way of communication ever since he had carved the enochian sigils into the Winchesters' ribs, though he still had not become accustomed to the small device. Hurriedly, he flipped it open, dialing Dean's phone number as fast as his fingertips would allow.

"Hello?" a tired voice answered on the other line. It sounded as though Dean had been drinking – recently, in fact, which was no surprise there.

"Dean!" Castiel gasped, pain suddenly working its way from his lungs into his throat. He coughed for a brief moment, spitting out a mouthful of goopy blood.

"Jesus Cas, is that you?!" Dean exclaimed. Castiel could hear Sam in the background asking all kinds of concerns.

He took in a large amount of air. "I need, I need help," the angel sputtered, "something's overtaking me."

"Overtaking? What the hell are you talking about?!" Dean demanded.

Castiel was about to speak, when another surge of immense pain overcame him. He wheezed into the receiver once more, "Dean!"

"Okay, okay, okay," Dean sighed desperately, "Where are you?"

"Rapid City at, at a place they call Art Alley I believe," Castiel managed to stammer.

He could hear Dean rummaging to get his coat on, on the other end. "We'll be there in ten minutes, just hold on," he said confidently.

"Alright," Castiel murmured quietly, feeling the darkness of sleep beginning to conquer him, "Dean – please hurry."

* * *

Well, that's the prologue for you – Castiel is in danger and Dean must save him… dun dun dun!! At any rate, I've just had this overwhelming desire to write some kind of dramatic and sadistic love between the two as of recently, so I hope you've enjoyed what I've made of it so far. Not to worry, A Struggle For Affection is a work in progress – I'm having a sort of writer's block at the moment =S

Please **review**, it is oh so very appreciated!!


	2. Deceiver Of Fools

**Disclaimer:** I own nothing, Supernatural belongs to Eric Kripke and large television corporations such as the CW. Any and all of the following is completely fictional and fan-made.

**Author's Note:** I apologize, honestly, I think this chapter is a little drawn on myself but what can I say? I didn't want to add too much right away, but then again I don't want to leave too much out…. hmm.

* * *

**Chapter One**

The Impala sped down the streets of Rapid City, florescent lights of fitness centers and sports bars flashing by epileptically as Dean's foot weighed down on the gas pedal. Ever since Castiel had called him, Dean's mouth had clenched shut, refusing to give Sammy any details until he was sure Cas was safe.

Sam sighed softly, turning to look out the window at the surrounding town. He pondered slightly what would happen if they got there too late – what would happen to Dean? Shaking his head vigorously, Sam realized just how horrible of a though that truly was. Dean was broken enough already as it was, if Castiel died well that would be the last straw. Sam also found it interesting though, how much compassion Dean held for the angel he'd met only about a year or so ago. They were awfully close – he shifted uncomfortably in his seat at the thought of how much "eye sex" Dean and Castiel had shared on numerous occasions.

"What?" Dean huffed in annoyance, seeing his brother squirming next to him.

"Oh, uh," Sam stuttered, as the images of the pair left his mind, "Nothing." Again his eyes returned to the streets which they passed by swiftly. Suddenly, a figure huddled on the ground caught his eye. "Dean!" Sam shouted hastily, realizing the figure was indeed Castiel.

Dean speedily pulled the Impala over towards the curb, nearly hitting the car's bumper in front of him them as he did so. Not even bothering to park the Impala in a straight alignment Dean leaped from the driver's seat, bolting towards Castiel's location with Sam following just behind on his older brother's heels. As Dean crouched beside the wounded angel, however, Sam stopped short catching a glimpse of a demon's dead host. His eyes darted between Castiel and the corpse, noticing its slightly blue-tinted skin and slit wrists.

"Cas? Cas, wake up!" Dean shouted desperately, interrupting Sam's thoughts.

Sam watched his brother for a moment – Dean's shook Castiel ardently, enveloping handfuls of the tan trench coat within his palms. His previously bright hazel eyes now held a new element, a new shining, but not of a pleasant nature. Sam could see a sweat line forming ever so vaguely on Dean's forehead, his brow creased with concern. All of a sudden Castiel stirred, shifting somewhat. He started at the touch of Dean's hands on his body, swatting at him like a nuisance insect. "Hey, hey, easy now," Dean said, attempting to comfort the angel.

"Is it you, Dean?" Castiel asked, his voice barely grazing a whisper. He squinted his eyes like that of an old woman, trying to identify her grandchild. He continued to mumble on, "I thought it was over, I, I didn't think–,"

Sam raised an eyebrow in surprise as he saw Dean delicately place a finger to the angel's lips. "Shhh, " Dean soothed. Unable to sustain control over his muscles any longer, Castiel collapsed exhaustedly into the hunter's arms. "It's okay, I got'cha now. It's okay Cas, I'm here." Dean could've sworn he'd seen a slight grin flicker across the angel's lips as his eyes closed once more. Clearing his throat awkwardly, Dean called to his brother, "Sammy, give me a hand!"

Sam suddenly realized that he'd been standing there like a gawking idiot as Dean and Cas had shared their intimate love-fest. "Right," he said hastily, soon joining his brother in the struggle to load Castiel into the back seat of the Impala.

Once Cas was all settled in, Dean rummaged in the trunk looking for something other than a weapon for a change. Quickly he yanked a spare blanket out, shaking off the lint that had collected, before placidly slipping it over his colleague's body. With that, Sam slammed the door shut, before hopping into the Impala himself. And so, it was on the road again….

* * *

The trio had swiftly been traveling east on Interstate 90 for about forty-five minutes. Typically, the Winchesters didn't prefer taking main expressways, but these weren't exactly typical circumstances. Both Dean and Sam knew that their best bet to helping Castiel recover would be to take him to Bobby's although, Sam was still skeptical about how much Bobby would really be able to do for the angel – after all, it's not like wounded heavenly creatures were his specialty. Of course he didn't allow his uncertainty to show for Dean though, who'd been looking in the rear view mirror every few miles to check on Castiel.

"He doesn't look too good," Sam commented, allowing his gaze to follow Dean's this time.

Color flushed over Dean's cheeks ever so slightly as he hastily focused on the road once more. "Geez, you don't say, Sam," he huffed. Almost immediately his softened in apology as he turned to look at his pain in the ass little brother. There was no need for it though, Sam understood that it wasn't Dean talking at this point, just the frustration of it all.

Deciding to drop the matter, Sam switched to a more important topic of interest. He asked, "What do you think happened to him, anyway?"

"Honestly," Dean licked his lips as he spoke, "I don't have a friggin' clue. One moment, I'm sitting there with my pal Budweiser, and the next thing I know Cas calls choking up his guts in some alley way."

Sam snorted somewhat at Dean's bluntness of the situation. Again he turned to face the window, watching as deeply shaded evergreens passed before him in a swift haze. The rest of the trip continued in complete and utter silence – no radio, no arguments, no jokes. Nothing but a nerve-wracking tension that seemed to linger in the air between the three men.

Finally, with about five and a half hours passing, the Impala slowly rolled into Bobby's driveway. Dean let out a long drawn sigh as they pulled in beside Bobby's beat-up old truck. It had been a long night – Castiel had began to cough up blood again about mid-way there, and then there was a traffic jam about twenty minutes or so afterward. Whoever heard of traffic jams at two o'clock in the morning was beyond Dean, but it certainly had lengthened the trip by a good hour. "Sammy, wake up!" Dean hollered, rubbing his eyes wearily.

"Mm, yeah," Sam murmured, stretching his arms and massaging his stiff neck. He definitely had to make it a priority to buy one of those neck pillows or something.

Suddenly, a dim light emulated from one of the downstairs windows of the house. Bobby must've heard the engine outside, for swiftly he came out the front door and wheeled himself down the newly installed ramp, shotgun in hand. Dean saw his expression soften somewhat as he realized it was only the Winchesters. Ever so slowly, both he and Sam arose from the vehicle and made their around to the older hunter.

"I suppose you two idgits have a good excuse for pullin' into my driveway at the crack'a dawn," Bobby sighed matter of factly.

The two brothers exchanged quick glances, Sam nodding at Dean, prompting him to tell Bobby the news. Dean placed his hands upon his hips before saying in a groggy voice, "Cas is sick."

Now Bobby certainly hadn't been too fond of angels from the start – from blinding his physic friend, Pamela, to crippling him in a wheelchair for the rest of his life, you could say angels didn't exactly put a twinkle in the hunter's eye. Never the less, it was evident that Castiel held a special place in Bobby's heart. After all, out of the whole heavenly host, Cas was the only one proven to be a non-dick – heck, he'd even picked some human characteristics along the way. Rubbing off from Dean, no doubt…

"Well," Bobby said at last, "I guess you'd better bring'im inside."

Opening the back doors of the Impala, Dean and Sam were ready to begin the task of carrying the angel to the house when Castiel suddenly awoke from his deep rest. The color had slightly returned to his face, his eyes not as cloudy as they had been when the boys first found him. "No, no," Cas murmured, realizing their plan, "I think I can manage." Attempting to disguise the great amount of effort it would take just to stand, Castiel inhaled deeply before arising gradually from the car seat. All three hunters were surprised when Castiel emerged from the vehicle, gripping the boot for leveled support. But none too soon did the angel's exhausted body give up the struggle, his legs collapsing underneath him. Castiel's spirit, however, was a different matter entirely – Dean was quickly at his side, offering assistance, but still Cas resisted. "I can manage," he repeated himself, his chest heaving deeply with every breath taken.

Dean could easily see what was going on here – Cas was just trying not to look weak, seeing as he was an angel of the Lord and all. "No, you can't," Dean stated simply, slipping his arm around the angel's waist…. for support of course.

Castiel strived to push Dean away, but the strength simply wasn't in him. "Dean, this is unnecessary—,"

"Cas!" Dean cut him off abruptly, evident concern showing in his partially bloodshot eyes. At long last, Castiel allowed his body to lean against the hunters, edging step by step towards Bobby's home. Dean, however, was in no mood to take things step by step – stealthily, he swung a hand down near the ground before unexpectedly pulling Castiel into his arms. Cas seemed genuinely stunned by Dean's actions, but made no objection as he was carried inside.

Once indoors, Sam almost immediately found a chair to crash down in. Meanwhile, Bobby directed Dean to a table where he could lay Castiel. Quickly Bobby fetched a pillow from a nearby chair, passing it to Dean. He tenderly slid his hand under Castiel's head, whose hair was damp with sweat, delicately placing the pillow beneath on the table. Cas let out a long drawn sigh, his muscles finally relaxing after the strain outside. His hands were folded over his stomach area, almost making him appear similar to a deceased in their coffin. Dean shook his head at such a thought – the last thing he wanted to picture was Cas lying dead in a casket. Blue shimmering eyes starred up at the hunter, wordlessly thanking him for his efforts. Dean flashed a bright smile in return, his eyes scanning over the angel – his angel.

Bobby watched the pair in silence for a moment. A strange thought occurred to him, as he was almost surprised Dean hadn't lowered a kiss to the crown of Castiel's head – what a strange thought indeed. "Get some rest boy," he interrupted at last, "leave this one to me."

Dean's eyes flashed hesitantly between hunter and angel momentarily, before Castiel shot him a reassuring gaze. One last smile flickered across Dean's lips as he turned away from the table and passed through the archway. Collapsing into a nearby chair, Dean inhaled deeply, allowing his eyelids to waver shut for only a brief second. "He's gonna be fine you know," a voice echoed quietly from behind him.

Dean turned to face Sammy, who had witnessed his slight falter in the other room. Inching his chair somewhat closer to his brother, Dean whispered, "How can you be so sure?" He felt like a kid at summer camp who didn't want to get caught talking after lights out.

"Face it Dean, Cas is strong," Sam replied simply, "He's not gonna give up that easily."

Dean sat in silence for a moment, nodding slowly. "That's true," he murmured.

Sam situated a blanket loosely over himself. "Besides, with you here to help him, he's only gonna get stronger." With that, Sam turned away from his brother, settling in to get some rest.

Dean just starred at Sam, the words replaying over and over in his head – with you here to help him, he's only gonna get stronger. What the hell was that supposed to mean? Dean wasn't treating Castiel any differently than before… was he? The words kept spinning through his mind even as Dean turned to face the dim light, which was beginning to pour through the window. Just within view he could see Castiel lying on that table, looking peaceful. He was saying something to Bobby, but Dean was too tired to even listen at this point. All he needed was sleep – tranquil and harmonious sleep.

* * *

Dean's body jolted as he suddenly awoke – disturbing silence made the air all around him feel thick and unsecure. Ever so slowly, he arose from the chair in which he had been sleeping in, crossing over the threshold into the next room over. The table that Castiel had been laying on only hours ago, was now arranged with papers and books alike scattered to and fro. Sam, who had been perched over the pages of a thick tome, looked up at his brother in surprise. Almost as if to answer the question which pondered on Dean's lips, he pointed silently over to the corner of the room.

There on the floor crouched Castiel, stripped down to only his white dress shirt and slacks. In front of him, a sheet of paper was placed, where he had been vigorously sketching a combination of random script and Aramaic. As Dean knelt down beside him to get a better look at the angel, Sam informed him, "He's been like that for hours. Just scribbling symbols and mumbling on."

Dean raised his eyebrows at Sam in disbelief, turning to face Bobby who nodded in agreement. Moistening his lips, Dean called softly, "Cas?" With no response, he tried calling the angel by his full name. "Castiel!"

Suddenly, Cas stopped dead in what he was doing. The muscles of his body tensed as he gently laid the pencil atop the paper he'd been using. With a crack of joints, he stood up firmly, not struggling in the slightest this time. "Here I stand before you," Castiel replied matter of factly, his voice deep and rough, like it had been when he and Dean had first met.

"Yeah, thanks for stating that, Captain Obvious," Dean joked, looking at the angel quizzically. But Castiel seemed to find no amusement in what Dean had to say, now turning to face him directly. Cas's deep cerulean eyes scanned over Dean's body from head to toe, which gave the hunter a most uneasy feeling.

Thankfully, Dean hadn't been the only one to notice that there was something extremely bizarre going on with the angel. "Cas, what's wrong with you?" Sam asked, his brow furrowed in confusion.

"Oh, but I'm better than ever, Samuel," Castiel replied flatly, his head turning towards Sam in a robotic motion.

"Samuel?" Bobby echoed in confusion – since when did Cas call Sam by his full name? Since when did anybody call Sammy boy by his full name?

Castiel ignored the hunter who sat behind him, returning his gaze back to Dean Winchester. Taking a step closer to him, Cas murmured in a low voice, "I never gave you my thanks last night."

Dean swallowed deeply, feeling his pulse thrash about in the upper part of his throat. Castiel's eyes were piercing directly into his heart it seemed, mesmerizing him as the angel drew closer. "Well, uh, you know that was, well, nothing," Dean stuttered nervously, taking a cautious step backwards.

Still Cas persisted onward. "Frankly, I was surprised you came so quickly," he continued as if no one else were in the room, "I'm not sure what I would've done if you hadn't."

Suddenly Dean found his back against the wall, Castiel speedily closing most of the space between them. Ever so slowly, Cas lifted a hand, bringing it up to Dean's forearm. A surge of angelic energy coursed through Dean's veins, as Castiel's hand nearly landed on his handprint scar. Dean struggled to catch his breath when both their eyes collided in an electric embrace – before the hunter even realized his actions he was leaning in towards the angel's prominent lips, longing for a passionate kiss.

Dean's body shuddered as the ringing of a nearby telephone abruptly wrenched him back to reality. Feeling a slight vibration in his pocket, it dawned on him that it was in fact his own cell phone. Nervously, he dug into the pockets of his jeans, his hands shaking all the while as he wrenched out the cellular device. "Hello?" he almost shouted. Almost immediately afterward, Dean's face became focused once again. "Yeah, how bad is it?" he asked, hurriedly leaving the room.

Castiel sighed in aggravation, turning to face the two other hunters that were staying at him – wide eyed and jaw dropped. "Take a picture, I believe it lasts longer," the angel huffed, leaning himself against the wall where Dean had previously been standing.

Bobby and Sam exchanged quick glances, before Sam returned to his duty of book reading. "Hmm," Sam pondered aloud after a moment's passing.

"What?" both Bobby and Castiel asked in unison.

Castiel began to slowly urge forward as Sam spoke once more. "Well, according to this –,"

"That was Rufus," Dean interrupted, obviously unaware of the fascinating information Sam was just about to share, "says he's got apocalypse stuff going on over on the east coast."

"Did he say what kinda stuff?" Bobby inquired.

Dean responded, "Eh, the usual – possessions, earthquakes, lightening storms."

Bobby let out an exasperated sigh at Dean's news. "Well I guess we should hit the road then," Sam said, beginning to gather his belongings, "Bobby, mind if I take this along?" He held up the dusty old book he'd been skimming through.

"Nah, keep it," Bobby replied as he wheeled himself over to the group of younger men, "call me if ya find anything." Gently, he handed Castiel his suit jacket and trench coat, making quite the effort to keep his eyes in completely focused on the angel's.

"No worries, Bobby," Dean chuckled, slipping on his own jacket and of course popping the collar. The irony of the situation was a bit humorous to him – anytime you heard a Winchester utter the words no or not and worry in the same sentence, you could almost assume the situation was pre-cursed with nothing short of immaculate failure. Not only that, but they were only going up against the apocalypse. No biggy there!

"Oh and Sam," he caught the young Winchester's arm as the group headed for the door, "keep me posted, will ya?" His eyes flashed back and for the between Castiel and Sam as he spoke.

Sam glanced wearily over his shoulder, Castiel's silent gaze piercing into his back. "Sure thing," he said simply, before turning abruptly and heading for the door.

Castiel stood in the archway momentarily as the boys loaded up the Impala. A light grin pulled at the corner of his lips as he nodded solemnly at Bobby. "Thank you kindly for your help, Robert," he addressed formally.

"Cas, let's go!" Dean called impatiently from the driveway.

"Ah well," the angel sighed with sarcastic apathy, "duty calls." He spared one lingering look at the hunter who sat before him, prior to turning on his heel and striding ever too casually out the door.

Bobby watched as the sleek black vehicle pulled away from his home, the silent echoing closing in around him. It wouldn't have been such a bad thing, if not for the disturbing image that whirled through his mind. His elevator may not've reached the top floor, but he could have sworn he'd seen that angel's eyes turning as black as they very depths of hell.

Bobby shook his head ever so slightly as he wheeled over to one of many bookshelves that cluttered the area. Is it even possible, he pondered, for a demon to be possessing an angel?

* * *

So the big secret is out! I haven't entirely done my homework in the theological myth department, so I cannot say for certain whether or not this whole angel/demon in one body thing is even possible – most likely not. However, I've decided on a very particular hell spawn which I hope you'll all

enjoy. I'll leave you with that little spoiler to simmer on ^_^

– Please **review** and remember to dispose of your popcorn containers in the blue trash receptacles –

Thanks for reading!!


	3. Holding Back

**Disclaimer:** I own nothing, Supernatural belongs to Eric Kripke and large television corporations such as the CW. Any and all of the following is completely fictional and fan-made.

**Author's Note:** So how awesome is it that our favorite television show got confirmed for a sixth season, huh? *high fives to all* Haha, I'm looking forward to it… EPIC.

At any rate, in this chapter we see Castiel's little "bunk mate" begin to emerge, causing chaos between the trio. Without anything further, please enjoy!!

* * *

**Chapter Two**

Dean's vision began to blur slightly cross eyed as he sped the Impala onward through a whirl of other traffic and flashing lights. After crossing a grand total of four state lines in one day, only breaking two or three times for pit stops, a wave of exhaustion had flooded over Dean and he feared his colleagues were beginning to take notice. He stole a glance in the rear view mirror, only to find Castiel's burning stare looking straight back at him. The angel had been staring at him for nearly the entire trip, which gave Dean an obvious feeling of uneasiness. Chills ran down his spine as he returned his attention to the road, gripping the steering wheel until his knuckles became white.

"Dude, you look beat," Sam said rubbing his eyes wearily, "we should stop somewhere for the night."

Dean sat in silence for a moment. "Nah, I'm fine," he replied after a pause.

Sam snorted in minor amusement. "No you're not, you've been driving all day. You need a break, Dean," he persisted.

"Look Sam," Dean argued, irritation beginning to rise in his throat, "I don't _need_ a break. If I want to stop then–,"

"You're brother is right, Dean," Castiel interrupted solemnly, "you look drained."

Sam looked over at Dean, smiling matter of factly as he did so. Dean on the other hand, was none too happy about the whole situation. "Fine," he said quietly, muttering curses under his breath as they drove along.

At last they reached a nearby Super 8 Motel, in which Dean slowed the Impala to a halt. Grabbing his bag Dean popped the driver's door open, slamming it shut behind him as he stealthily made for the entrance. After checking in, the group found themselves in a cozy home-like motel room. There were conveniently three single beds, all decorated with a burgundy, deep navy, and cream colored pattern. Dean almost immediately collapsed onto the furthest one from the door, nearly knocking his skull against the headboard in the process.

Castiel stood in the middle of the room, dumbfounded, while Sam chuckled somewhat at Dean's obvious exhaustion. "Glad to see you're already settled in there," Sam teased.

"Shut up!" Dean spat from a mouthful of bed sheets.

A beaming grin sat on Sam's lips as he cleared his throat. He said, "I'm going step out and call Bobby." He already had cell phone in hand and was making for the door.

Quickly, Dean flipped himself over, eyeing his younger brother suspiciously. "What for?"

"He told me to let him know when we decided to rest," Sam responded rather hurriedly.

Dean shrugged off Sammy's hasty reply, too tired to argue. "I swear, that guy worries too much," Dean laughed, falling back onto a fluffy pillow.

Sam smiled at his brother, before looking toward the angel who stood in the room silently. Ever so slightly he hesitated about leaving the two alone – especially after their little love fest earlier – but decided calling Bobby was his priority at the moment. Swiftly he turned, closing the motel door gently behind him.

Castiel waited until he heard the younger Winchester's footsteps stride down the hall to take a seat on the bed closest to Dean's. Letting out a long drawn sigh, he felt his muscles relax almost instantly. Sam and Bobby knew something was off with him, there was no questioning it. Dean on the other hand – well that was just one of the many joys concerning Dean Winchester. When it came to all those close to him, sometimes Dean's naivety did more damage than good. He would never believe Sam – the brother who betrayed him by toying with a cheap demon skank – if he said that Castiel was off his noggin. There wasn't a chance, and so Castiel thought it best to use this lack of trust to every advantage he could.

"What do you think you're staring at?" Dean interrupted Castiel's thought, not even bothering to open an eyelid from where he lay.

Castiel blushed slightly at this, now realizing that he had indeed been staring at Dean the entire time. "Oh, I, uh," he stuttered, slightly flustered, "I like watching you sleep – it's settling."

"Settling, Cas? Really?" Dean responded sarcastically. He now propped himself up on one elbow, facing the angel who sat across from him.

A small grin flickered on the edge of Castiel's lips. "What can I say?" he sighed, looking into the hunter's bloodshot eyes, "You bring me tranquility."

Dean broke their lovely staring contest, grunting somewhat as he arose from the now crumpled sheets of the bed. "Oh don't even start that again," he grumbled under his breath.

Castiel's ears were apparently better than Dean had anticipated, for he really hadn't meant those words to be heard by the angel. Never the less, they had, and so Cas pondered on them aloud. He tilted his head in that sickening, yet adorable manner that Dean just couldn't resist. "Start what?" Cas asked innocently.

Dean turned away from the angel, grunting in mild disgust. Unhurriedly, he made his way to the nearby bathroom to refresh his face. "That whole lovesick thing, it's starting to freak me out dude," he called. Lowering his face towards the sink, he allowed the cool water to rush over his skin, awakening his senses at it dripped along.

"But Dean," Castiel murmured, his footsteps approaching ever closer, "surely you don't think this is the first time for this lovesickness?"

Dean eyes widened as his head jolted upright – in the mirror, he could see the pulse in his throat thumping drastically, his adrenaline building. Still Castiel's footsteps shifted on the carpet, gradually coming closer to his location in the confined bath space. He licked his lips awkwardly, "Well, uh, I guess that depends on the definition of lovesickness. Wouldn't it?" Quickly he spun around to see just where to angel stood, only to find that Castiel had somehow emerged right behind him. Hastily, Dean jolted backwards, nearly propping himself up on the countertop.

Castiel took yet another step, nearly closing the gap between them completely. "Well, how would you define it?" Dean could feel Cas's steamy breath against his cheek as the angel spoke.

He swallowed hard, his throat suddenly feeling tight as if his oxygen supply were being cut off by some unknown force. "Uh, I would, um, I dunno. Never really, uh, thought about it. How about I ask Sam, he'd know?" Dean replied ever so hastily, trying to stall for as long as possible. If he could just keep Castiel away long enough for Sammy to return – to interrupt this invasion of personal space and make things okay again. Feeling his stomach begin to double over in knots, Dean swiftly hopped off the counter making a mad dash towards the door.

Almost robotically, Castiel flung his arm up in protest. Dean stopped dead in his tracks, exchanging a lengthy stare with the lustful angel. "How about I show you my definition instead?" he nearly panted, stealthily turning and pinning the hunter against the wall. Dean gasped at the sudden movement, but made no attempt to resist as Castiel ran his hands over the hunters shoulders. Dean could feel the heat radiating off Castiel's body now as his face emerged ever nearer to his own. Softly, the angel's lips were locked with his own in a slobbery embrace. Dean felt his heart leap to his throat unexpectedly wrapping his arms around the angel's upper back, enveloping handfuls of Cas's trench coat as he did so. Feeling his tongue entwining with Castiel's, Dean allowed his eyelids to flutter shut wanting this moment to never end but at the same time to be over abruptly.

* * *

Sam had to travel all the way to the front of the motel just to receive service on his cell phone. _Shitty service provider_, he thought to himself as he whipped it open to dial Bobby's number. The phone rang a total of five times before an automatic error message came over the receiver – _We're sorry, you have dialed a number which cannot be reached from your calling area. If you feel you have reached this message in error, please hang up and try again. Or press one for more options_. Sam cancelled the call, huffing in irritation. Dialing once more, he tried an alternate number, given the fact that Bobby had numerous phones hooked up in his home. It rang once… then twice… and again. "Come on Bobby, pick up," Sam murmured, rocking back and forth from a chilly breeze that had blown in.

"Hello?" a tired voice finally answered on the other end.

Sam sighed in relief as the hunter had finally picked up. "Hey Bobby, it's Sam."

"Ya idgit," Bobby griped drowsily, "what in the hell are ya callin' me at 2:30 for?"

"It's about Cas," Sam said matter of factly. He heard some rustling on Bobby's end, indicating that he now had the hunter's attention. "I was reading in that book you gave me, and I found some interesting lore on angelic and demonic experiences."

Bobby poured himself a cup of strong coffee, taking a large gulp before continuing on with the conversation. "What kinda experiences?"

"Well," Sam began, whipping out a piece of paper he had used to scribble a jumble of notes on, "you're familiar with out of body experiences, right?"

Bobby chuckled somewhat, "Let's talk about something I don't know."

"Right," Sam grinned, "well, supposedly, there are these things called shared body experiences."

"Hmm," Bobby pondered thoughtfully, stroking over his mustache, "what is that? Like two souls in one body er somethin'?"

Sam tilted his head, reading over some notes that were written on the very edge of the page. "Well yeah, actually – sort of. Remember when Cas talked about vessels being part of a blood line?"

"Yeah, so?"

"So," Sam continued on, "I was reading that because a vessel has it in their blood, they're left more vulnerable to other supernatural possessions as well."

Bobby asked quizzically, "But wouldn't an angel have to be sent back to heaven before a demon could take the meatsuit?"

"But that's where the shared body experience comes into play," Sam responded, now getting a little more excited over the circumstances than he probably should, "I'm thinking we're dealing with a pretty powerful demon here, who's actually possessing Castiel."

* * *

Dean and Castiel continued to share compulsive and slobbery kisses, the angel more in control than Dean would've ever expected. Firmly he held Dean's body propped against the bathroom wall, now beginning to move down the hunter's neck with his lips making little bite marks as he traveled along. Dean closed his eyes, swallowing hard as adrenaline pumped through his veins. Desperately, he gripped the fabric of Castiel's trench coat, a soft purr arising from his throat.

Suddenly, Castiel's hands began to travel downward from where they rested on Dean's shoulders. He ran his fingers along the curves of Dean's torso, delicately stroking the shirt fabric as he moved along. An exasperated gasp escaped Dean's lips, causing Castiel to pick up the pace as he continued his ever descending journey. At last the angel's fingers reached their final destination, and he curved his fingers around the hunter's belt buckle. Dean jumped back at this, pushing Castiel away in surprise.

"Whoa, whoa, what do you think you're doing?" Dean spat, panting heavily from their fiery make out session.

A devilish grin flickered across Castiel's lips at Dean's ever so innocent reaction. "What does it look like?" the angel snickered as he once more attempted to reach for Dean.

"Well I don't know what you had in mind," Dean cleared his throat awkwardly, "but I really don't swing that way Cas."

Castiel stood dumbfounded for a moment, just staring as if he'd been slapped in the face. Angrily, he placed his hands on his hips before questioning, "Then what do you propose that was?"

"What was?" Dean raised an eyebrow quizzically.

"Oh, I don't know Dean, maybe the fact you were kissing me?!" Castiel now raised his voice, sarcasm thick in his tone.

Dean blushed, more so out of embarrassment than from making out with the angel – deep down he knew his reaction didn't make much sense, but he wasn't entirely sure he wanted to go that route with Castiel. Switching topics he hastily replied, "I don't even know what's with you lately Cas." Shaking his head, he stepped back out into the main bed area of the motel room.

Castiel followed swiftly behind the hunter, certainly not ready for this conversation to be over. Dean was now standing near his bed, facing away from the angel, rubbing a hand over his sweaty forehead. Castiel grabbed him roughly by the shoulder, turning Dean to face him. "Don't deny that you did in fact enjoy that!" he hollered bitterly.

"C'mon Cas!" Dean shouted in utter frustration, "I don't know what I was doing back there!"

"Really? Because you seemed fairly content on grabbing a hold of my tongue with your mouth, Dean," Cas retorted.

"Look, Cas," Dean took a step closer to the angel, "I don't know what's gotten into you, but it's having an effect on me. Christ, it's like you're more human – not even an angel anymore!"

Fury burned in the angel's eyes at Dean's slandered words. Pushing the hunter backwards, Dean tumbled over landing on top of his bed. Castiel was quickly there on top of him, looking Dean dead in those lovely green eyes of his. "Listen closely, Dean Winchester, because I won't say this twice," Castiel tightened his grip on the hunter, who squirmed desperately beneath him, "Need I remind you that I am indeed an angel of the Lord? I assure you that if you require further proof, I may cast you down in the pits of fire from once I raised you."

Fear now pumped through Dean, unable to control the trembling that shook from his very foundation. Castiel was serious – more serious than Dean had ever seen him in their entire experience together. Flashes of flame and ash spiraled in Dean's mind as petrified gasps and screams rang in his ears. Suddenly, he could see the angel's fist coming down upon his face, and then there was darkness.

Castiel snickered at the weakness which coursed through the eldest Winchester's veins – Hell was indeed his most useful leverage among any. Removing Dean's boots, Cas carefully slid the hunter underneath the bed sheets before turning out the nearby light. At best, Dean would think all they shared was simply a dream and nothing more.

Suddenly, the angel's body stung as though a million needles were puncturing the skin. Castiel fell on his knees, writhing in pain. "Stop this torture!" Castiel gasped, barely able to take in the air around him.

"Why?" a voice came from the same mouth, but it was neither Jimmy's nor Castiel's, "You know you enjoyed it."

Castiel could feel color flushing in his cheeks, as _it_ had certainly taken his deepest desire and put it into practice. Castiel realized that he was going to have to try undoubtedly harder if he was to beat this damn thing.

* * *

"So what kind of demon is powerful enough to possess an angel?" Sam sighed, leaning against the wall behind the bench he had taken a seat on.

Bobby replied, "Hell if I should know."

"Yeah," Sam said, before letting out a deep yawn.

Bobby glanced at the old pendulum clock that hung in his bedroom – the hour was nearly four, so where Sam was it would be nearing five. "Look kid, it's been a long night, you should get some rest."

Sam chuckled somewhat, "Nah, we need to keep thinking–,"

"No we don't need to do anything," Bobby interrupted the young Winchester, "right now, your priority should be sleeping. I'll make some calls tomorrow and look through some books."

Sam smiled, he could always count on Bobby no matter what. "Okay. Thanks Bobby."

"Sleep well, ya idgit," Bobby laughed before ending the call.

Sam arose slowly from the bench, joints popping as he turned every which way to stretch. He hoped that Dean would be fast asleep by the time he returned to the room, otherwise he'd be in some big trouble. Turning to go back inside, Castiel suddenly appeared standing right before the hunter.

"Oh, h- hey Cas," Sam stuttered, unsure of how much the angel – or demon – had heard from their conversation.

"Hello, Sam," the angel replied in his normal stern voice. Suspiciously, he eyed the young hunter from head to toe, his gaze finally locking on Sam's eyes.

Sam felt a nervous feeling churning in the pit of his stomach – perhaps it could be that he hadn't eaten in quite a few hours, but he guessed it was more likely from the situation he was stuck in at the current moment. Still, Sam decided to try his best to carry out this conversation as casual as he could. "Is Dean asleep yet?"

At this, Castiel's gaze fell towards the ground, a dopey smile coming across lips. "Ah yes, that wasn't too difficult of a task," he muttered softly. Clearing his throat, he lifted his head once more to face Sam.

"Well that's good I was hoping–," Sam paused, examining how the angel's lips were puffy and red – presumably from kissing. "What did you do to him?"

A low chuckle rumbled in Castiel's throat. "Oh, I didn't do anything to him Sam," Castiel smirked, "he did most of it himself." Sam's eyes widened in repulsion, and suddenly he felt as though he was going to gag. Just picturing the two of them together in an embrace – _oh, disgusting!_ Sam thought to himself "What were you and Bobby discussing?" Castiel continued, rather matter of factly.

Sam debated his answer rather carefully. "Oh, you know," he hesitated.

"You're right," Castiel said, beginning to walk in a slow circle around Sam, "I do know."

Sam swallowed hard, the nervous tension in his body building as whoever was possessing Cas continued. "So who are you?" he asked finally, his voice coming out much stronger than he felt.

"Oh, I go by many names in the pit, but I'd doubt you'd be familiarized with any of those. As of now though, I'm contently Castiel – angel of the Lord. Or whatever," _It_ mocked bearing a devilish grin upon its face.

Sam clenched his fists in frustration, now knowing fully that his suspicions had been confirmed. "You better wipe that smile off your face or I swear I'll–,"

"You'll what?!" _It_ interrupted him obnoxiously, "Sorry Sammy, this is a whole new bag of goodies and tonight's not trick-or-treat. Besides, I got a few tricks up my sleeve."

_It_ took a few steps closer to Sam, until they were only inches from each other. "Oh yeah? Bring it," Sam sneered with false confidence.

_Its_ smile grew even broader at Sam's smart ass responses. "Believe me, Sammy, it's already brought. But now that you know I'm hiding in good 'ol Cas's meatsuit, you can't go spoiling my fun ahead of time," _It _murmured in a low voice.

"What are you talking about?" Sam hissed.

"Let me put it to you nice and clear, kiddo,"_ Its _gaze pierced right into Sam's, "you keep your mouth shut to Dean about all this, or I'll make you wish you were never born. Got it?"

As _it_ flashed, its eyes black before him and Sam realized that this creature was evidently not joking. This was something that, most likely, no hunter had ever been up against and so he'd have to play his cards very carefully. Never the less, Sam still planned on informing Dean – he'd just have to do so when it wasn't around. _Yeah, like that'll be easy_, Sam thought sarcastically. Yet he simply nodded his head in confirmation with its commands, watching as it once again bore that friggin' smile. Talk about a nuisance….

* * *

Sorry for the delay in updating, all this week my throat has been swollen – the doctor diagnosed it acute pharyngitis and they sent me on my merry way some 500 MG of Amoxicillin, so I am on the mend! At any rate, I'll be updating on _A Struggle For Affection_ within the week, so keep an eye out for that, as well as a little surprise for those of you who enjoyed _Castiel's Literary Works_ ^_^

Please remember to **review**, it's very much appreciated!!


	4. Out In The Open

**Disclaimer: **I own nothing, Supernatural belongs to Eric Kripke and large television corporations such as the CW. Any and all of the following is completely fictional and fan-made.

**Author's Note:** I want to apologize for the delay in updating… I have no excuse haha. Enough with game time though, let's get to the fun stuff – Sam tries to ruin our little friend's surprise, which doesn't end to well for the boys. Just as a side note, a "shared body experience" is completely fictional. As far as I can tell, none of what was written in the previous chapter is true and is all of my imagination.

Without anything further, please enjoy!!

* * *

**Chapter Three**

Dean rolled over uncomfortably, coming out of his deep sleep at last. Warm, golden sunlight was now shining brightly through the curtains, filling his eyes painfully. Arising ever slowly, Dean grunted in pain, his head throbbing almost unbearably. His feet shuffled cautiously across the carpet towards Sam's duffle – that kid was always popping Tylenol for some pain or another. Shifting through multiple pockets and zippers of the compartment Dean finally found the bottle that he was looking for, swallowing two of the tiny pills without water. Dean was just so desperate for the thudding in his skull to be ceased that he was half-tempted to guzzle down the whole bottle. But, of course, that's where self-restraint comes in and so instead the hunter just returned the bottle to its original resting place.

Suddenly Dean heard a low groan and slight rustling from behind him. There, Castiel lay on the floor, attempting his best to get up. Images of the previous night flashed before Dean's eyes at the sight of the angel, his adrenaline pumping. _Did it really happen?_ Dean pondered to himself, _Nah, couldn't have. It was just a dream – a really freaking weird dream._

Gradually, he moved towards Castiel, kneeling down close to the angel's head. "Cas? What are you doing?" he whispered.

Castiel looked up in sudden surprise at Dean's voice. His blue eyes, usually bright will hope and clarity were once again clouded and in a haze as they had been only a few nights ago. "Dean, I," Castiel gasped, "I don't believe I am well."

Dean's eyes softened in sympathy, his brow furrowing in concern for poor Castiel. "Come, let's get you up," Dean grasped the angel by the waist and pulled him up, placing him into the nearby chair, "How you feeling?"

"I think I'm p–," Castiel began to say, when suddenly a sharp pain wracked his body. _Keep your pretty little mouth shut, Castiel,_ a voice within the angel's head rang, _Otherwise, I'll make you bite off that nice tongue of yours and swallow it whole!_

Castiel sat curled in a ball for a moment, barely daring to breath against _Its_ command. "Cas, are you okay?" Dean placed his hands on the angel's shoulders, "Cas!" Dean now began to shake him at the lack of response.

At last the pain subsided to a low thump, and Castiel licked his parched lips delicately. "Water," he murmured, his voice coming out of dim and scratchy.

"What?" Dean asked, leaning closer to hear his angel's request.

Castiel cleared his throat, now able to speak somewhat clearer, "Please Dean, I need a drink of water."

Ignoring his own head pain Dean hurried off towards the bathroom, filling a tiny plastic cup to the brim with tap water. Returning ever swiftly, Dean placed the cup beneath the angel's lips allowing him to sip at his heart's content. Castiel started first drinking the water vigorously, but gradually slowed down until he turned his head away at last. Letting out a long drawn sigh, Castiel look as though he were about to speak when Dean cut him off abruptly, "Hold that thought."

Quickly the hunter rushed back over to his brother's duffle, retrieving the Tylenol once more. He tapped out two more pills bringing them over to aid Castiel with his pain. "Dean, that is unnecessary," Castiel rejected Dean's offer, turning his head away in resistance.

Just then Sam awoke, preparing to question what was going on, but instead he stayed silent. Barely even shifting beneath the covers, he just watched as hunter and angel interacted. "You may not think so," Dean muttered, reaching for the plastic cup and once again offering the medicine to Castiel, "but believe me, it helps."

Castiel eyed the pills suspiciously for a moment, before finally submitting to Dean. Cupping them in his hand, Cas downed them whole before grabbing the tiny cup and finishing the remaining water. Dean smiled contently at his victory over the angel, connecting with Castiel's gaze. The two simply sat in silence momentarily, some kind of longing energy passing between them. Sam was about to make his presence known once more, but just then Castiel lowered his head in hesitation. Dean's brow furrowed in confusion as the angel looked once more into the hunter's eyes, a new element of regret and wonder swirling in his own. "Dean," Castiel said breathlessly, "Did I sleep last night?"

Dean's eyes searched rapidly over Castiel's face, debating his answer. "How should I know?" he responded at last, hoping that his voice came out semi-normal compared to how he felt inside.

"Oh," Castiel muttered softly, relief most evident in his tone, "I think I had a dream."

Memories of the previous night filled Dean's head, confusion swirling through his brain. Could it have all been a dream? Could Cas and him have possibly shared the same thought in their sleep? "What was it about?" Dean asked at last, his voice coming out more needy than he would've liked.

Castiel's eyes were fixated upon the floor, too embarrassed and unwilling to gaze at the hunter before him. Even from afar, Sam could've sworn he saw red color flourish to the angel's cheeks. "It doesn't matter," Castiel responded simply, his voice barely touching a whisper.

"Cas," Dean gasped – for a moment Sam though his brother was going to reach up to stroke Castiel's cheek, but he didn't. Never the less, he'd had enough of this beautiful love scene and was ready to actually get out of this crappy motel bed.

Obnoxiously yawning, Sam stretched his arms in false fatigue prior to rising slowly from the bed sheets. "Good morning," he sighed, making sure to rub his eyes for the added effect. Out of his peripheral vision, he saw Dean immediately straightened up. Castiel meanwhile, remained completely oblivious to any awkwardness that flooded over the situation. Almost as if mimicking Dean though, Cas straightened like a stick in his chair, his normal stone expression returning to his face.

"Well, look who it is, sleeping beauty," Dean chuckled somewhat sarcastically.

Sam rolled his eyes at Dean's remark, slowly shuffling over to the other two men in the room. Examining the Tylenol bottle Dean still held in his hand, he asked, "You doin' okay?" He already knew what the pills had been used for, but Sam knew it would appear less suspicious if he asked.

"Yeah," Dean yawned, "just a little headache, that's all."

Sam nodded, his gaze darting between angel and hunter. The dark shadow that seemed to have been casted over Castiel the night before was all but gone, as he assumed the demon within him was at peace – for the now anyway. "Well I'm gonna hit the shower. Will you be ready to go then?" he decided to maneuver the conversation in a direction.

"Yes," both Dean and Castiel replied in unison. Glancing at each other somewhat awkwardly, Sam chuckled at the expressions both their faces held. _How cute_, he though sarcastically, _they're finishing each other's sentences!_ Turning away towards the direction of the bathroom, Sam suddenly caught a glimpse of Castiel staring at him. Out of his peripheral vision he could see a smug grin spread across the angel's lips, his eyes squinted so that he was almost glaring. Sam swallowed hard, continuing onward attempting to be as casual as possible. He had a feeling this day was not going to end well… for any of them!

* * *

An eerie silence had spread over the Impala ever since the group had left the motel to keep on the move towards New Jersey. Sam sighed in annoyance, rather unsettled by Castiel's – or now the demon's – piercing stare which was constantly upon him.

Dean's stomach grumbled loudly, breaking the quiet that clung between the three men. He snickered somewhat to himself, before saying, "I think it's time we stop for a burger, eh?"

Sam smiled his response, turning to watch the scenery pass by the window. Castiel, on the other hand, was in a particularly foul mood and scowled at Dean's remark. "We should concentrate on the task at hand – stopping would be unwise," he stated simply.

Dean's brow furrowed at Castiel's words, a sour expression coming over his face. "Dude, PMS much?" he teased sarcastically, "And you may not have the need to feed but we humans do. Deal." Turning the Impala into a nearby gas station and fast food joint combined, Dean found a parking space fairly close to the store's entrance. "So are you coming or what?" Dean asked, glancing in the rearview mirror to see the angel's response.

Castiel remained silent, his gaze staring straight ahead into nothing in particular – somehow he seemed to be avoiding eye contact with Dean. The eldest Winchester huffed in annoyance before stepping out of the car, and slamming the door shut behind him. Sam mimicked his brother's actions, quickly joining him inside the fast food lobby.

While standing in line waiting to order their food, Sam couldn't help but staring at Dean curiously – a thousand thoughts whirled through his head at once as he debated whether or not to tell Dean about this his newfound information. Dean eyed his brother suspiciously, quite frankly getting creeped out by Sammy's blank stare. "What?" he spat, easing slightly away from the other hunter.

Sam blinked vigorously, realizing just how awkward he'd made the situation. "Dean," he began hesitantly, his voice trailing off.

"For crying out loud, Sam. What?" Dean urged, cranky from Cas's behavior and the lack of food in his stomach.

Taking a few steps forward, Sam stayed silent a moment longer. He dug his hands deep into his pockets before starting again, "Dean, I think there's something–,"

"Hold on just a second there," Dean interrupted him, preparing to place their orders, "Yeah, can I get a bacon cheeseburger, fries, and a Mountain Dew? Chicken sandwich and Dr. Pepper okay for you Sam?"

Sam nodded silently, feeling his stomach twist in a summersault at what he was about to tell Dean. "Your order will be ready shortly," the clerk said matter of factly.

Handing the money to the cashier, Dean and Sam stepped not too far away from the counter, taking a seat at a nearby table. "So what were you saying?" Dean asked casually.

"Well," Sam cleared his throat, feeling his stomach muscles tensing up once more, "I think there's something you should know. It's about Castiel."

Dean tilted his head slightly, leaning inward in utter curiosity. "Well, what is it?" he asked, unable to keep the needy tone from ringing in his voice. If Sam knew something about Castiel that he didn't, well he better get on with it!

Sam looked at his brother's longing gaze, sighing wearily. "Well, Bobby and I were talking and we think that–,"

"Hello," Castiel suddenly interrupted them. Dean jolted slightly at the angel's sudden appearance, Sam simply shutting his mouth as he felt color beginning to flush to his cheeks.

"Damn it, Cas. Don't do that!" Dean exclaimed, looking the angel over from head to toe.

"My apologies," Castiel responded blankly, "I was just curious as to what you two were discussing." His gaze drifted towards Sam, his irises ablaze with some unknown fury. Sam kept his head bent downward, intently focused on the table's scratched surface.

Dean looked from angel to hunter, about ready to question just what was going on between them, when suddenly the smell of food interrupted his every thought. "Bacon cheese burger, chicken sandwich!" the clerk called, Dean's head snapping upward almost instantly. Hopping up from the chair in which he sat upon, Dean walked speedily over to the counter in order to collect their food.

Almost as soon as Dean had left the table, Castiel turned rapidly to face Sam, an expression none to pleasant on his face. "Remember what I said Sam," whoever was taking over Castiel warned, "Not. One. Word." He demonstrated a slit throat by dragging his finger over his neck for emphasis.

Sam directed his eyes away from Castiel, or whoever this was, feeling a slight fear beginning to thrash within him. "Here sasquatch, make yourself useful," Dean muttered, handing Sam their drinks. Castiel half smiled at the eldest Winchester, before glaring at Sam once more. Dean shrugged off the awkward tension between the two, making his way back towards the Impala.

Sam sighed, feeling as though he could relate to the drinks which he held in his hand – icily chilled on the inside, but sweating his nerves out on the outside. He had a bad feeling that things were going to get bad, one way or another.

* * *

Dusk settled in over the horizon as the Impala sped down a country road, located somewhere between Philadelphia and Lancaster. After choosing a quaint looking motel, the group retrieved their belongings and wearily made their way to the designated room. Dean slammed the room door rather loudly behind him, throwing his bag atop the nearest bed.

It landed with a thud, creasing the white linen and vine covered spread ever slightly. "Amish country my ass!" he hollered, flopping down on the edge of the mattress himself, "I swear, I see one more damned horse and buggy I'm gonna have to slap somebody."

"Dean, calm down," Sam eased, "it's a very primitive lifestyle."

Dean raised his eyebrows in surprise at his brother's remark. "Primitive? Primitive Sam, really? They don't even have electricity for God's sake!"

Out of the corner of his eye, Dean noticed Castiel flinch at the mention of the Lord's name. Keeping the thought to himself, he shrugged it off and redirected his gaze to Sam. Just as the younger Winchester was about to utter his response, Castiel chimed in firmly, "Enough, both of you. What's done is done, let's move forward please."

Dean licked his lips delicately before crossing his arms over his chest. Turning to face the angel, he said sarcastically, "Oh hi there, Cas. Look who decided to finally drop in!"

Castiel retorted silently at Dean with an icy glare which took both hunters by surprise. Feeling a tension beginning to rise, Sam quickly changed the topic of the conversation. "Hey Dean, wanna come to the lobby with me?" He suggested.

"Nah," Dean mumbled, beginning to fidget through his bag.

Sam knew that he _needed_ a moment alone with his brother and there had to be some way to provide just that – think quickly, he came up with the perfect solution. "Are you sure?" he urged, "Cuz I thought I smelled them cooking up cheese steaks from the kitchen."

Dean's eyes widened somewhat at the mention of such heavenly food – it had been quite a long time since he sank his choppers into a good ol' cheese steak. "Cheese steaks?" he questioned with bated breath.

"Authentic from Philly," Sam beamed widely, realizing that he had his brother reeled in at last.

A lop-sided grin spread over Dean's lips as he was already beginning to make for the door. "Well then, hope to it Sammy!" he chuckled, his mood obviously brightened.

"I think I'll join you," Castiel said simply, quickly catching up with the pair of Winchesters.

Dean sighed in utter annoyance, turning to face the angel. Placing his hands up in a defensive stance, he spat, "Look Cas, just get out of my hair for a while! Okay?"

Sam arched an eyebrow, slightly stunned at Dean's sudden outburst. Castiel clenched his jaw, taking a step back from Dean. "I guess I'll just stay here then," he said in a hushed, almost ashamed, voice.

"Yeah, you do that," Dean retorted bitterly under his breath. Silently leaving the room, Sam followed cautiously behind him, waiting for the opportune moment to spring the news on his brother.

They got about halfway down the hall of the motel, before Sam stopped Dean abruptly by gripping him firmly by the shoulder . "I lied," he said simply.

Dean furrowed his brow in confusion. "Come again?" he asked, perplexity evident in his tone.

"There are no cheese steaks," Sam clarified, continuing on even as Dean tried to voice his irritation, "I just needed to steal you away for a second."

Dean shifted slightly away from his brother. "What is that supposed to mean, steal me away?"

Sam rolled his eyes – Dean always seemed to take his expressions the wrong way. "Never mind, this important," he urged, "Remember earlier how I was telling you something's up with Cas?"

"Yeah," Dean replied, leaning his weight to one side while crossing his arms over his chest.

Sam felt some sort of odd excitement bubble up in his chest as he let it all out, "He's possessed." It felt good to share the burden he'd been carrying around for the past twenty-four off his chest.

"Castiel?" Dean questioned in astonishment.

Sam spoke slowly and as clearly as he could, "Yes. It may sound hard to believe but it's true, Dean. Bobby and I did some digging and–,"

Dean raised a hand silently to shush his brother, running a hand of his stubble covered chin. "Possessed," he muttered in a dim voice, which quickly grew louder, "Possessed?!"

Sam's eyes widened, panic rushing through him. All he could think to do in this moment was to call out his brother's name. "Dean, duck!" he yelled frantically.

Dean turned, swiftly crouching down to see Castiel's iron fist headed straight for his face. Moving just out of the angel's path, Castiel came stumbling forward somewhat. He locked gazes with Dean for a moment, before speaking through wispy breaths, "Ah well, I suppose the cat's out of the bag now." That being said, the demon who was running the show flashed his eyes black before Dean, letting it all out in the open.

The eldest Winchester nearly stumbled backwards in amazement, taken completely off guard. Castiel, of course, used this to his advantage – with a sharp turn of his fist, he planted a sucker punch to the center of Dean's stomach, followed by a series of quick blows to the face. Knocking Sam back a few good feet, Castiel moved on to wrap his slender fingers firmly around Dean's neck, not to squeeze the life out of him but at least get him out of the way for the time being. Dean could feel darkness beginning to close in around his peripheral vision and then – _nothing_.

Sam charged at the angel… demon… _thing_, watching as his brother's unconscious body slumped to the floor. Castiel met Sam's fist in the palm of his own hand, squeezing the boy's hand until a slight crunch could be heard. Sam fell to his knees, gasping in agony as he desperately hoped the creature would show mercy. "Sam, Sam, Sam," _It_ scolded in mockery, "now why'd you go and ruin the fun for me early? Don't you know, you're only supposed to shout, 'Surprise!' _after_ the lights come on??"

Sam clenched his jaw in response, gritting his teeth together as he stared into the unfamiliar stare of his opponent. Typically Castiel's eyes held such warmth, such beauty – now, all Sam could see was cold ocean depths that appeared to be never ending. Suddenly, there came a third battle cry from behind the creature.

Bobby Singer rolled at rapid speeds through the hallway, whipping out a baseball bat from his side and smashing it into the back of Castiel's knees. _It_ fell to the ground at the unexpected strike, whereas Bobby took the opportunity to smash at him again. This time he plowed the bat into the side of Cas's head, causing him to topple over onto the floor below. "You okay, kid?" Bobby asked, concern showing rather evidently in his eyes.

"Yeah," Sam panted, gripping his hand which throbbed painfully. Around his knuckles, the skin was already beginning to bruise to a rich purple, the rest of his flesh tinted a rosy red. "Thanks Bobby, how'd you know we'd be here?"

"I wasn't born last night, ya know," Bobby huffed simply, rolling himself cautiously around Castiel's body, "Besides, we got bigger fish to fry here. When we get this fella inside, for instance, before sure to bind him down with rope. Nice and tight."

Sam looked suspiciously at the older hunter who sat beside him. "Rope, Bobby? Whatever happened to the traditional: devil's trap and salt lines?"

"That ain't gonna do us any good," Bobby said simply, "This is bigger than we thought, Sam. Much bigger." Sam swallowed hard as the words left Bobby's mouth – they were obviously in _way_ over their heads.

* * *

Okay, so I hope this will hold you all over until the next chapter is up, which shouldn't take nearly as long as this one. This may've seemed kinda bland, but it's what I like to call a "filler" chapter. The next one should be much more interesting, as we'll be getting in depth with who Castiel's mystery possessor is.

Thanks for reading, I'll be updating soon!! ^_^


	5. Dragging The Finish Line

**Disclaimer: **I own nothing, Supernatural belongs to Eric Kripke and large television corporations such as the CW. Any and all of the following is completely fictional and fan-made.

**Author's Note:** Hello all, I return with another chapter – we see Bobby get to spend some quality time with the demon possessing Castiel, at which time we finally learn its name. Please enjoy!!

* * *

**Chapter Four**

Dean blinked vigorously as he tried his best to identify his surroundings. With a swirling and blending motion, his vision began to finally come into focus, the ceiling towering above him. Slowly lifting his body from what apparently was his bed, Dean placed his feet onto the floor and slowly shuffled towards the area in which he heard dim voices coming from. He stopped about midway, hearing Sam yelling in his bitchy voice – it seemed to Dean that Sam seemed to be using quite often these days.

"You son of a bitch, we don't have time for this!" he shouted bitterly.

Dean's brow furrowed in concern for just who Sam could be talking to. Quickly he scurried into the other portion of the room, perplexed and uncertain at the sight before him – there, towards the center of the room, they had Cas strung up six ways from Sunday with thick rope. Sam was within spitting distance of the angel's face, Bobby on the other a good four feet away sitting in his wheelchair.

Castiel turned his gaze in Dean's direction smiling broadly, which was completely uncharacteristic, when he saw the hunter enter the room. "Hello there Dean," he said, a strange sarcastic-type melody to his voice, "Glad you could join the party. I hope you like bondage!"

"Shut up," Sam growled bitterly, glaring at Castiel's present host.

"What the hell is this?!" Dean spat, already charging forward to free who thought was still Castiel. Bobby quickly rolled out in front of the eldest Winchester, nearly making him trip.

"We should talk," Bobby said simply, gazing up into Dean's luscious green eyes. Clenching his jaw tightly in irritation, Dean nodded silently – he could already feel a headache brewing in his temples.

* * *

All three hunters moved into the sleeping area of the motel room, hoping that their conversation would go on without interruption from the creature tied up in the far corner. "Okay," Dean sighed, "Anyone mind explaining to me why we have Cas strung up?"

"He's not Cas," Sam replied wearily, rubbing a hand over his face.

"What does that mean, he's not Cas?" Dean placed his hands on his hips aggravatedly.

Bobby could feel tension already beginning to rise, quickly stepping in with his own question, "You don't remember goin' cold, do ya?"

"All I remember is a huge freaking angelic fist coming straight for my face, then I was out," Dean responded, flopping down on the edge of his bed.

Sam leaned against the wall that was behind him, crossing his arms tightly over his chest. He snorted somewhat, "Shouldn't that be your first clue there, Sherlock?"

Dean arched an eyebrow in confusion. "First clue to what exactly?"

"The fact that he's not Cas anymore, Dean!" Sam shouted, now in utter frustration.

"Woohoo, we're making progress!" echoed Castiel's sarcastic tone from the other side of the room.

Bobby rolled his eyes, calling out, "Shut up, ya idgit!"

"That doesn't make any sense," Dean said, running a hand through his hair as he began to pace the floor, "I mean, how that not be Cas?"

"Well you boys know all about OBEs and astral projection," Bobby said simply.

Dean glanced at him strangely. "Yeah?"

"Well, turns out there's something called a shared body experience," Bobby continued, "You get two or more supernatural forces stuffed in one body and boom!"

"Here, take a look at this," Sam said, handing Dean a few loose printed articles.

Dean's eyes sped back and forth rapidly reading over the information in front of him. After a moment he cleared his throat, looking up at the other two hunters beside him. "So what'a we do?" he asked, his voice dim.

Bobby sighed wearily, "There's not much we can do, smart bastard got himself locked up with an angel. Devil's trap and salt don't even make a difference."

"What about holy oil?" Dean asked, watching in dismay as Bobby shook his head, "Enochian sigils?" Still, the eldest hunter remained silent, pushing down any suggestion Dean came up with. "So what, we got ourselves the incredible Hulk now? There's gotta be something we use!"

"Believe me, Dean, we've tried it all," Sam but in, "The only thing that seems to do anything is holy water. That and the physical approach."

Dean's widened in disbelief at his brother – if Bobby didn't know better, he would've guess Dean was about to bitchslap poor Sammy. "The physical approach?!" Dean spat in disgust, "You slapped him??"

"He's a demon, Dean!" Sam retorted in defense. Honestly, he didn't understand why Dean was getting so upset over it. After all, it wasn't Sam who'd spent a decade torturing souls in the bowls of Hell.

Dean took an aggressive step forward, his upper lip quivering ever slightly. As he spoke, his tone was low with contained anger, "Yeah, and Cas is in there too."

Sam raised an eyebrow, slightly taken aback. "Dean," he crossed his arms in annoyance, "Last I checked, you hit me when I was possessed."

Dean's expression softened slightly, turning away from his brother as he felt color beginning to flush to his cheeks. "This is different," he cleared his throat, "I don't know how much Cas can withstand."

"That's true," Bobby sighed, "Damn idgit's gone and lost his mojo, remember?"

Sam said nothing, remaining silent in agreement of the other hunters' point. "Well, this is all fine and dandy over here," that obnoxious voice rang again, "but if you ladies wouldn't mind getting down to business, I got some matters that need attending."

Dean turned quickly from where he stood, vigorously striding over to the demon which possessed his angel. "Alright, you want business?" he growled, "Here's business for ya!" Pulling a rather large bottle of holy water from the inside of his jacket, Dean carelessly dumped it over Cas's body watching as he sizzled in agony. Gripping him firmly by jaw, Dean forced whoever was possessing Castiel to gaze into his flaming eyes. "How's that?"

Using Castiel's mystifying gaze, the demon peered up at Dean, a foxy grin spreading over his lips. Spitting a small stream of holy water back into Dean's face, he retorted with amusement, "Just fan-fucking-tastic." It was odd hearing such curses coming from Castiel's lips, but that did little to sway Dean from his main objective, which of course getting the demon to confess its name.

As if it were no more than sweat upon his brow, Dean carelessly wiped the water from his face, now beginning to circle the creature ever slowly. "So what, this is your big plan? Take over an angel to get to us? What does that get you in the end, huh? Some kind of special reward with the boss??" Dean interrogated, not really expecting any answers in return.

"You honestly think that's what all this boils down to?" the demon laughed, nodding Castiel's head up and down vigorously, "Oh no, Dean. Good old Lucifer's got no beef on me. No siree, this all just my own ideas, that's all."

A smug grin appeared on Dean's face as he spoke once more, "Is that so?"

"Oh come on, it's the apocalypse for crying out loud! Can't a demon just have a little fun?" the demon insisted, watching Dean intently.

Dean paused abruptly, leaning inward towards its face once more. "If that's true," he mused, eyeing Castiel's body from head to toe, "Why Cas? I mean, there must be a thousand angels out there you could get your hands on."

The demon raised its eyes towards the ceiling, as if straining to think. "They're all pretty boring, to level with you," he responded casually, "Castiel on the other hand, oh he's just _so_ much fun. Toying with his emotions, it's bliss let me tell you."

Sam quickly stepped in, seeing Dean's jaw tightened in annoyance. "What do you mean, his emotions?" he asked, moving from his place against the wall.

The demon giggled somewhat to himself, biting his lower lip before continuing. "Castiel is damaged, dear Sam. His powers are nearly depleted and all he has left to cling to in Deano here," he explained, "What can I say? It's fun – making him do all things he's too afraid to do on his own."

Dean's body tensed at the demon's words, remembering the events of the previous evening. It wasn't a dream like he had so longed for it to be – he and Castiel had evidentially shared a feverish embrace, however brief it may have been. Still, it wasn't so much that they made out which scared Dean, it was the fact that he had _enjoyed_ it. Turning back to face the demon, he threatened simply, "Shut your mouth."

Both Bobby and Sam watched the heated tension between the two rise as Dean hunched down to Castiel's eyelevel. The demon gazed curiously at Dean, his eyes searching Dean's in desperation as if looking for his next sarcastic catch phrase. "There's a fight in you, Dean," the demon muttered in a hushed down, a curious smile curling the edges of his lips, "What are you gonna do, shove me away like the other night?"

"Dean, what's he talking about?" Sam questioned immediately.

The demon added fuel to the fire, "Yeah Dean, what am I talking about? What could I possibly mean by all this?"

Dean's jaw clenched tightly, before nuisance gave way to pure fury. "I told you to shut up!" Dean spat, smashing his fist into the whole of Castiel's face. Before the hunter even knew what he was doing he stood up straight, beginning to kick the beloved angel roughly in the stomach.

Almost instantly, Sam was at Dean's side, trying to restrain his brother from doing anymore damage. "Dean, Dean!" he called frantically, "Dean – stop it!" Gripping his brother firmly by the shoulders, Sam used all his weight to through the shorter man to the floor.

Dean panted heavily, looking around as if he didn't recognize his surroundings. His glowing eyes glanced in the direction of who he supposed was now Castiel – the angel's head hung low, a thin and goopy string of blood dangling from his lips. "Oh, God," Dean muttered under his breath, a slight sweat forming upon his forehead at the sight in front of him.

Bobby cleared his throat, wheeling closer to the knocked out angel. "Why don't you two take a walk?" he suggested, "Cool off a bit?"

The boys knew that tone well enough to understand it really wasn't a question. It was more like a polite way of saying, _Get out of here so I can clean up your mess… again!_ Both Sam and Dean nodded silently, Sam extending a hand to help his brother from the floor. Dean eagerly accepting, both then heading for the door without so much as a peep. Dean stood in the archway a moment longer, glancing over his shoulder to take in the image of battered Castiel – he felt awful. Sighing wearily he followed gigantor out of the motel room and down the hall.

* * *

Bobby dabbed a few ice cubes wrapped in a damp paper towel against the angel's now swollen lip. "Son of a bitch," a dim voice moaned, who was clearly not Castiel.

"You're still here I see," Bobby muttered in response, turning away from the demon temporarily to rummage through a tiny first-aid kit he had on the table.

"Yeah," the demon responded, groaning tiredly, "It's not like I plan on going somewhere any time soon."

Bobby snorted lightly at the creature's response, turning back to face him bearing a shot glass-sized bottle of hydrogen peroxide. "I dunno how much you know about pain," he began, dipping a cotton swab into the clear liquid, "but I'll tell ya right now, this is gonna sting."

The demon winced slightly as the disinfectant touched the wound, white fizz beginning to form within. "You're not like the Winchesters, are you?" he asked at last, after a moment of silence.

Bobby didn't look up from his work, responding without even a shifting of eyes. "If by that you mean tall, young, and handsome I'll be sure to smack ya upside the head for that in just a second here," he replied.

The demon snickered somewhat, unable to tell if the hunter was joking or not though. Clearing his throat, he settled back into a more serious tone as he continued. "No, that's not _quite_ what I meant," he clarified, "You just seem, I dunno, more compassionate."

Bobby leaned back somewhat with his eyebrows raised – had a demon really just complimented him? "What can I say?" Bobby replied modestly, "I've got a couple'a years on the boys."

The two sat in silence for a moment longer, the demon eyeing Bobby unsettlingly with Castiel's deep blue eyes. "No, there's something else," he muttered quietly at last, "It's like you actually care whether or not I bleed."

Bobby raised his head, an expression none too amused on his face. "Let's just get one thing straight here," he said sternly, "The only reason I'm doin' squat for ya if cause I know how much this angel means to Dean. It's got absolutely nothin' to do with you personally."

With that, the elder hunter rolled away from the secured demon, cleaning up his medical equipment. Moving onto a new topic of interest, the demon cleared his throat, "So how'd you even start anyway?"

Well if this conversation wasn't getting weirder by the minute – first he complimented Bobby on his apparent _compassion_, and now the damn thing was going about asking him how he got his start in hunting! "Uh, you really wanna know why I got about huntin' you guys?" Bobby glanced over shoulder doubtfully at the demon.

"What?" the demon shrugged as best he could, despite the many wrappings of rope, "Everyone's got a story, I'm just curious."

Bobby debated silently for a moment before finally answering to the demon's inquiry. "My wife," he began, his voice solemn and hushed, "was possessed. I didn't know how to save her, so I–,"

"Beatus est is quisnam does ignoro , etiamnunc servo protego," _(blessed is he who does not know, yet serves to protect)_ the demon interrupted him abruptly, "I'm sure if she could tell you, your wife would be understanding."

Wheeling himself around to face the demon, Bobby nodded silently his thanks. "Like you said, everyone's got a story," he murmured, his voice still slightly shaken from before, "What's yours?"

The demon sighed wearily, hanging its head low. "Let me test your knowledge," he said in a low voice, "Collin de Plancy, 1863 – High president and prince of hell, commanding four of the principal kings and sixty legions."

Bobby stroked his beard in contemplation for a moment, going over the words in his head. "Collin de Plancy, Collin de Plancy," he mutter over and over again, "But he wrote a lotta demonology in his lifetime."

"Appears in human form at noon, and is said to intensify the passions of _love_ and _hatred_," the demon continued, lifting its head to stare at Bobby with stone black eyes.

Bobby's heart rate began to accelerate as he realized just who they were dealing with here, and how powerful the demon before him truly was. "Goetia?" he questioned breathlessly.

A twisted grin spread over the demon's lips, his eyes remaining their unsettling black. "I'm prefer Gaap," he said at last in a sly and cunning voice.

* * *

Sam and Dean had long since left the motel and were now roaming the streets of the nearby town – it was surprising, for being so mild and country there sure was a lot of hustle and bustle going on. Sam could still sense the guilty rage radiating off his brother, but he couldn't keep his mouth shut any longer. "So much for not using the physical approach," he muttered, just loud enough for Dean to hear.

"Oh, don't even start with me Sam," Dean grumbled, glaring slightly at his brother.

Sam sighed wearily as they rounded the corner on to a more deserted street. "Look Dean," he said, "all I'm saying is, if you're gonna be a hypocrite at least don't go twisting the rules while I'm standing right there."

"Jeez Sam, you act like you've never broken a rule in your life. Sue me!" Dean spat back.

Sam stayed silent for a moment, overlooking the truth his brother's words held – Dean did make a fine point. Letting the matter drop, he continued onward, "So what are we gonna do about Cas?"

"I don't know," Dean sighed, his voice coming out more desperate and needy than he would've liked, "Will exorcisms work?"

Sam dug his hands deeper into the pockets of his jeans as he went ahead to answer Dean's question. "Honestly, I have no idea. Bobby and I were pretty focused on trying to figure out who he was first," he responded. Dean nodded silently, as they strode along for a few more steps. Sam could feel curiosity bubbling up within his stomach, and he just wasn't able to deny it. "Dean," he began cautiously, "What did the demon mean anyway?"

Dean blinked awkwardly for a moment, deciding his best choice way to play dumb. "About what?" he cleared his throat.

"Oh come on Dean, don't play dumb," Sam urged – what was this kid, a mind reader all of a sudden? "I know you know what I'm talking about. What did the demon mean when he talked about you pushing him away?"

Dean stopped abruptly, turning to face his brother dead on. Their eyes connected as Dean spoke, "Nothing, okay Sam? The other night, he tried to make a move on me and I shoved him, got it? Good, let's go."

Sam arched his brow in suspicion, gripping Dean roughly by the shoulder to keep him from walking onward. "What do you mean, he tried to make a move on you? Like a fighting move, or a move move?" he asked curiously.

Dean knew deep down what he had meant, but was thankful for Sammy's confusion at this point. "Dude, a fighting move," he said after a moment as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. Seeing Sam's expression soften almost instantly, Dean continued, "What'ya think, Cas actually swings that way?"

Sam snickered somewhat to himself, shaking his head. "I dunno, anything's possible," he said at last. Dean contemplated Sam's response as they continued walking – _anything's possible_. That was truly, scarily true. Anything was possible, especially when it involved the Winchesters.

Suddenly, Sam's cell phone began to ring wildly in his pocket. Reaching his hand in, the younger Winchester soon retrieved the device, answering it promptly. "Hey Bobby, is everything okay?" he asked, knowing it was the older hunter from the caller ID.

"Sam, I think you and Dean better get back here," Bobby replied on the other side, "I know who our mystery demon is."

Sam's eyes widened in anticipation and the slightest of excitement. "You got him to talk? Well who is it?" he asked eagerly.

"Don't get too excited there, kid," Bobby responded, his tone flat, "His name is Gaap, and he's a lot more than we expected."

The youngest Winchester gulped as a tiny wave of fear rippled through him. "Don't worry Bobby," his voice suddenly became serious, trying to assure the older hunter, "We'll make it through."

Bobby sighed into the other side of the receiver. "Well you better start pulling some tricks outta your hats, else we're pretty much screwed," he said doubtfully.

"Yeah," Sam agreed, his tone hushed as he spoke, "We'll see you back at the room." With that, Sam shut his cell phone wearily, his spirits feeling down at Bobby's pessimism.

Dean eyed his brother suspiciously. "What?" he asked, obviously unaware of Bobby's less than enthusiastic response to the whole thing.

"Bobby says we should head back," Sam cleared his throat, turning back around the way they had just come, "The demon's name is Gaap."

"He got him to spill it?" Dean questioned, evidentially surprised by the turn of events.

Sam dug his hands back into the pockets of his jeans as they walked along, a slight irritation suddenly washing over him. He huffed quietly, "Apparently."

Dean looked at Sam questioningly, but said nothing as they continued to walk back to the motel in silence. The last thing they needed was yet another argument between the brothers atop of all other things. Right now what they should be focused on is finding a way to get the demon out of Cas without damaging him – _Without damaging Cas,_ Dean thought, each and every word seeping dreadfully into his head. Trying to think straight through all the possibilities, Dean came to a strange conclusion. What if they couldn't get the demon out? What if, somehow, Gaap had morphed to be one with Castiel?

* * *

So the plot begins to thicken… I hope you all enjoyed this chapter! Poor Castiel, I just have too much fun causing drama for him **sighs contently.

So it seems that Gaap has a habit of just pissing Dean and Sammy off cause he knows it'll get to them. I just thought it would neat to show a little quality "bonding time" between hunter and demon, seeing as Bobby has a much better grip on his anger haha. I should be updating fairly soon, so keep an eye out! Not literally, of course ^_^

Insquequo nos opportunus iterum, thanks for reading!!


	6. Disappearance

**Disclaimer:** I own nothing, Supernatural belongs to Eric Kripke and large television corporations such as the CW. Any and all of the following is completely fictional and fan-made.

**Author's Note:** Hello again! I would've had this chapter up sooner, but guess what decided to go corrupt on me last minute? I don't know what's going on with the damned Microsoft Word… I should probably make back-ups of my stories from now on.

At any rate, we see in this chapter that Dean in forced into babysitting Gaap while Sam and Bobby go out to collect some necessities. Upon their return, however, they stumble onto something they weren't expecting. Please enjoy!!

* * *

**Chapter Six**

Sam shut the motel room door lightly behind him as he followed Dean back inside. Before them Bobby sat content with a beer entwined with holy water within his grasp, Gaap still bound up tightly. Gaap beamed widely, watching as the brothers entered the room.

"Howdy there boys, glad you could join us," he chuckled somewhat.

Dean strode right over to the demon, beginning the interrogation process once more. "So you're Gaap, huh?" he asked, his tone flat despite the slight irritation the hunter was feeling inside at the moment.

"The one and only!" Gaap replied proudly, Castiel's blue eyes glowing with a satanic happiness.

Dean began to circle the demon slowly, his eyes never leaving Gaap's – or Castiel's – for a moment. A sarcastic smirk spread over his lips as he spoke, "Gotta say, you're really not impressing me."

"Why don't you untie me and I'll show you all sorts of tricks," Gaap shot back immediately, glaring at the eldest Winchester.

Dean tilted his head as he snickered somewhat. "Let's not and say we did," he continued, "What I wanna know is why possess an angel?"

Gaap stayed silent for a moment as if debating his answer. "You hear that?" he said in a hushed voice. He watched in delight as the three hunters exchanged glances in confusion. He continued, "It's the sound of running in circles. Déjà vu, anyone?"

Dean paused his slow waltz just to stare at the demon – his eyes held a mixture of hate, wonder, and some unknown factor that just couldn't be placed. "Why Castiel though? And don't give me that toying with this emotions crap," the hunter insisted, crouching down to Gaap's eyelevel, "There's something bigger going down here. You know it and I know it."

"You seem pretty certain about that there, Deano," Gaap retorted, tilting his head in what otherwise would've been Castiel's adorable manner, "But you're wrong – in fact, you couldn't be further from the truth."

"Why don't you enlighten us then?" Sam butted in, crossing his arms tightly over his chest.

Gaap smiled up at Sam, saying, "When in Rome, right?"

Dean nodded somewhat at the demon's response, he honestly couldn't argue a whole on that point. Hell, there'd been plenty of times that was his _only_ reason for doing some of the things he did – bacon cheese burgers for breakfast, one night stands… you get the picture. Sam on the other hand, was just getting fed up with Gaap's lack of actually getting to the point. Dean watched in surprise as Sam took an enraged step closer.

"You think this is some kind of game? You're toying with the forces of heaven here!" Sam hollered, his eyes ablaze.

Gaap's brow creased somewhat as his eyes darted around the room in bewilderment. "In case you didn't quite get the memo Sam, I'm a _demon_. Being an enemy of heaven isn't exactly anything new," he spoke slowly as if trying to explain something to a small child.

Sam growled bitterly, "Tell us what you've got planned, or I swear I'll–,"

"You'll what?!" Gaap spat back in mockery, he and Sam only inches from each other now, "You can't restrain me, you can't stop me. Hell, the only thing you can do is beat the living crap outta me. Which, by the way, that hurts dear old Cassie-Bear too."

Quickly Bobby interrupted them, spoiling the building tension. He spoke in a direct and firm manner, "Boys. Now."

Sam's jaw tightened as it took everything within his power to keep himself from beating that sly smirk off of Gaap's face. Still, the young hunter had to remind himself that Cas was still in there and any extreme physical damage would affect angel as well as demon. Following Dean and Bobby over to one of the far corners of the room, he watched as Bobby pulled a large book out from behind the bed stand. It appeared to be about a foot and a half in length, perhaps nine inches in width? Whatever its measurements, Sam wondered where in the world Bobby just happened to pull that out from.

Bobby glanced up at the brothers, frankly surprised that it was Sam becoming so enraged over this whole issue rather than Dean. He clasped his hands together atop the book's cover before continuing in a low voice, "You boys may want to mind your tongue with Gaap over there."

Dean arched an eyebrow, immediately questioning, "What? Why??"

"Cause ya obviously don't know a powerful demon from a puny one," Bobby retorted, throwing Dean an _idgit_ look.

"What's so special about him then?" Sam asked, aggravation still ringing evidently in his voice.

At this, Bobby opened the book turning to a dusty page located towards the center. "Samuel Liddell Mathers, 1904 – the thirty-third Spirit is Gaap. He is a Great President and a Mighty Prince. He can cause Love or Hatred," he read aloud, turning the page, "Gaap is a high president and prince of hell, commanding four of the principal kings and sixty legions. He is said to intensify the passions of love and hatred – Collin de Plancy, 1863."

As Bobby finished his reading and slammed the cover closed, Dean's gaze just darted between the two hunters at his side. "Sooo?" he emphasized his bewilderment, shaking his head ever slightly.

"So, not only is Gaap a high commander in the ranks," Sam clarified, "But he can also make a person spontaneously love or hate him or even other people. Sort of like a trance."

"Exactly," Bobby chimed in, in agreement.

Dean stroked his chin thoughtfully, his eyes fixated on nothing in particular. "So that explains last," he muttered under his breath.

Bobby redirected his gaze at the elder Winchester. "What'ya say?" he asked, obviously unaware that those words really hadn't been meant for anyone but Dean himself.

Dean blinked vigorously coming back to reality, the words on the tip of his tongue but just not coming out. "I, uh, nothing," he faltered, feeling slight color flush to his cheeks.

Sam and Bobby exchanged bewildered but did not press on the matter. Dean let out a relieved breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding as Sam continued, "So, is there any way to exorcise him?"

"Oh, there're lots of ways, we just can't use any of'em," Bobby responded sarcastically, "But there may just be one that works. Gonna take a hell and a half of herbs though."

"Well what are we waiting for then?" Sam said, feeling hopeful. Both he and Dean were beginning to make for the door when Bobby cleared his throat authoritively.

"Aren't you two chuckle heads forgettin' something?" he asked simply. At their dumbfounded expressions, he continued, "One of you needs to stay and watch evil knievel over here." Bobby nodded in the direction of Gaap who was still tied up securely.

Sam turned to Dean with a rather goofy expression on his face, "Alright, let's do this." He crouched down somewhat to his brother's eyelevel, holding his hand in the rock, paper, scissors battle mode.

Dean shook his head, chuckling at Sammy's childish behavior. Still it couldn't hurt – ready to deal his own hand, Dean looked up to face his brother. "I'm gonna whoop your ass, I hope you know that," he stated cockily.

Ready? Set, go! _Rock, paper, scissors… shoot!!_ The two slapped their hands three times, revealing each one's symbol. Sam's fist came smashing down like a boulder against Dean's flimsy pair of scissors. "Oh, oh, looks like winner takes all!" Sam exclaimed

"Eh, shut up!" Dean muttered, shoving Sam lightly on the shoulders.

Sam snickered to himself as he and Bobby made for the motel room door. Taking one last moment to look back at his brother, Sam's expression suddenly fell serious as he said, "Take care." His eyes flickered between Dean and a still tied up Castiel before finally shutting the door behind him.

Dean sighed wearily watching them go, rubbing over his eyes. "You know what's interesting about you, Dean?" Gaap smiled, looking Dean over almost sexually from head to toe.

Dean's brow creased as he raised his gaze to the demon's. "What's that?" he mumbled, clearing his throat.

"Your ability to swap emotions so quickly. I mean, not but a minute ago you were all stick up the butt_,_ and then it's nothin' but happy, happy for Sammy. What gives?" Gaap shrugged, emphasizing his voice when describing the emotions.

Dean sat in silence for a moment, debating his answer with himself. At last he spoke once more, "I dunno. Maybe I just like putting on a show." With that, Dean shuffled across the floor towards the refrigerator to collect a beer.

Gaap watched intently as Dean flicked the cap off, carelessly allowing it to fumble onto the floor. The yellow tinted liquid quickly guzzled away from the bottle and down the hunter's throat as he drank. "Well then, why not go ahead and put on a show for me?" Gaap arched his eyebrow seductively.

Dean, who had his head tilted upward, suddenly jerked coughing and spewing some of his beer onto the floor below. "Ah, eat me," Dean managed to sputter in between coughs and gasps. Promptly, he took another swig of the alcohol, which seemed to calm his hacking somewhat.

"Gladly," Gaap retorted, a wicked smile spreading across his lips.

Dean's hazel eyes locked into the somehow darker ones of Castiel, feeling suddenly uncomfortable being alone with him in this room. He cleared his throat awkwardly, continuing to drink his beer in silence. "So, uh, how's Cas holding up in there?" he pondered hesitantly after a hushed moment.

Gaap looked down as if examining the body. "He's strong," he replied at last, "He doesn't appreciate all of what I've made him do, but he's unsure of how to fight it. I like it because he struggles."

Dean felt his jaw tighten every slightly at Gaap's last words – _I like it because he struggles_. Yeah, Cas was strong, but that still didn't give this demon any right to think he could just walk all over him. "Oh believe me," Dean stated in a rather harsh tone, "Cas could totally beat your little white ass back to the pit if he wanted to." For some strange reason, Dean just felt the need to defend the angel.

Gaap chuckled somewhat to himself, a beaming grin plastered on his face. "I won't deny that Dean," he responded, "but keep in mind, it's that fury which makes me even stronger."

Dean raised his eyebrows in surprise, that certainly hadn't been the reply he expected. Turning away towards the trash can, he mumbled, "Yeah, some tough guy you are. Can't even get yourself unbound from some simple rope."

"What was that?" Gaap asked in a raspy breath. Hearing a loud crack and popping noise, Dean turned slowly to find the demon suddenly standing only inches from his face. "I was too busy untying myself from some simple rope."

The hunter's eyes widened in a mixture of horror and shock as Dean found himself being flung across the room. His head smashed into a nearby wall as he came crashing down onto the floor with a thud. You'd think someone would hear all this ruckus by now – another tenant, a staff member, someone! But no, of course not, not when it came to Dean Winchester getting the hell beaten out of him. Gaap strode steadily over to where Dean lay in a heap, crouching down and spreading his legs over top of the hunter. "You wanna know how Cas is doing?" he asked, grabbing Dean roughly by the shirt before throwing a punch, "He's doing fantastic! In fact, he asked me to give you this, from him of course." With that, Gaap leaned in to deliver a warm kiss onto Dean's lips.

At first all Dean could do was struggle, pushing desperately against the demon. But those soft lips were all too familiar, and soon Dean found himself melting blissfully into this passionate embrace. His once unwilling hands quickly became needy and frantic, latching themselves onto the fabric of who he believed to be Castiel's trench coat. Meanwhile, the demon's hands began to roam themselves, stroking surprisingly softly over Dean's torso and biceps. With super massive strength, Gaap was somehow able arise both of them from the floor, pinning Dean firmly against the wall. It's not like Dean really minded though – wrapping his hands around his lovers hips he drew him ever closer, pelvis soon grinding against pelvis.

And then, something suddenly seemed to change deep within their moist embrace. Gaap's lips unexpectedly became softer, his motions hesitant and much less certain. Dean pulled away, finding the almost black eyes had been returned to their angelic state, Castiel's lips trembling ever slightly. Oddly enough, at this point in time Dean felt almost guilty for the way he'd been kissing and groping the angel. At the same time, he felt like a hypocrite – all that crap he'd given Sam about trusting a demon, and here he was messing around with one himself. _Smooth there Deano, very smooth._

At last Castiel managed to blink, his pupils desperately searching Dean's. "Wh, why did you stop?" he asked, his voice still gruff but most uncertain.

"Cas," Dean gasped, swallowing roughly, "I – do you want this?"

Castiel remained silent, nodding his head slowly. Feeling that he now held the angel's permission, Dean went ahead to lean in once more returning his lips delicately to Castiel's. Now knowing that Castiel was indeed back to stay, at least for a moment, Dean found his hands more gentle in their touch not wanting to harm his angel in any way. His fingers combed lightly through the rich strands of Castiel's hair, toying and playing with the soft curly q's. Meanwhile, Castiel's hands traced over Dean's torso all the way to his shoulders, resting there as he clutched the fabric of the hunter's jacket in desperation. Their kiss deepened as Castiel surprising grabbed a hold of Dean's tongue with his mouth, sucking a pulling on it hornily.

Dean could feel a low moan arising in his throat, a stiff bulge pressing itself against the confinements of his pants in his throbbing nether region. Quickly spinning Castiel as if in some sort of dance, the two lovers landed softly on the cushy mattress of the nearby bed. Dean smiled down at Castiel, stroking his stubble covered cheek gently with his own callused hand. Castiel gripped Dean's hand firmly in return, inhaling deeply as if trying to capture all of Dean through his nostrils. At last, he reopened his eyes, finding Dean leaning in closer to reward him with a kiss once more. Willingly he accepted it, parting his lips as to allow entrance of Dean's tongue into his mouth yet again.

This was complete and utter blasphemy, and deep down Castiel knew it. Feeling the fabric of Dean's clothes beneath his fingertips, smelling Dean's strong scent of alcohol and a bizarre cologne, tasting the ever sweetness of his saliva – all these little details were so magical, Castiel couldn't help but getting lost in this divine moment. _This is blasphemy,_ the angel repeated over and over again in his mind, _Passionate, lustful blasphemy._ And still he indulged so, though he knew there was a fine line that had been crossed here.

And suddenly, Castiel's eyes flashed open widely, feeling an unexpected jolt deep within him. Using his angelic strength, Castiel managed to toss the rather weighty hunter from atop him, shooting upwards and panting wildly. Dean gaped at the angel's sudden panic, quickly scrambling beside his lover to comfort him. "Cas, what's wrong?" he murmured. At the lack of response, Dean grabbed a hold of Castiel's chin, turning the angel's face to look at his own.

Castiel swallowed hard, his breath and heart rate beginning to return to semi-normality. He blinked vigorously as his eyes darted over Dean's face, taking hold of the hunter's hands in his own. "Dean," he started hesitantly, looking downward almost shamefully, "I can't."

Dean's brow creased in confusion. His voice was gentle, but there was a slightly agitated edge which couldn't be denied. "What, why?" he asked.

Castiel lifted his gaze to face his hunter once more, feeling color flush to his cheeks. He began to shake his head ever slowly back and forth as he spoke, "This is what Gaap wants, this is his goal. I can't let him win, I just can't."

Dean licked his lips delicately, his mouth still gaping open somewhat in awe. "But, if it's what you want, then what does it matter?" Dean cleared his throat, still speaking in a hushed tone after a moment.

"Please Dean," Castiel almost begged, his expression more needy than Dean had ever witnessed, "Not like this."

Dean remained silent for a moment, slipping from the angel's grasp to walk to the other end of the room. "Fine," he muttered, his voice barely grazing a whisper, "I get it."

"Dean, this is not of my choice. I really do desire you," Castiel urged, swiftly arising from the bed to stand by his hunter's side. Wrapping his arms securely around Dean's torso, the angel allowed his head to rest on the nape of his neck.

Sighing peacefully, Dean reached his hands up to intertwine them with Castiel's arms – it amazed him sometimes at how swiftly situations changed for him on a day to day basis. Not but a few days ago he'd been rejecting the angel, who'd been Gaap in disguise, and now he found himself wrapped in his lover's arms. There had always been an obvious connection between hunter and angel, it couldn't be denied. Still, Dean just found that irony seemed to strike at the best of times. He allowed his eyelids to droop shut though, finding contentment in Castiel's embrace.

But this tender moment wasn't to last, as Castiel reluctantly pulled away from Dean. "I should go," he said simply, his voice small and hushed.

Dean turned, watching as the angel began to make for the door. "Wait, go where?" he almost spat.

Castiel stopped just short of his exit, his hand clutching the door knob firmly. "Anywhere," he replied, "Gaap will only attempt to cause more chaos. My best hope is get as far away from you as possible."

"Cas, you can't just leave. Bobby and Sam are working on an exorcism that might work," Dean insisted, striding across the room after his lover.

Castiel sighed, staring deeply into Dean's eyes. He emphasized, "_Might _work. What if it doesn't?"

"And what if it does?" Dean shot back, licking his lips delicately, "Please Cas, I'm beggin' you here. Just stay another day, see how it goes."

Castiel's jaw tightened in deliberation as he silently weighed his options. He opened his mouth to speak once more, but was cut off abruptly a sudden pain which jolted through his entire body. It coursed and constricted especially in his head, causing the angel to fall to his knees desperately crying out. "Aahhh!" he screamed, wishing only for this agony to cease.

"Cas? Cas?!" Dean called, at the angel's side in an instant. He wrapped his arms around Castiel, shaking him vigorously, not entirely certain of how much help that would be though.

Castiel's eyes rolled back into his head, his body begin to twitch and shake unconsciously in Dean's arms. All Dean could do was gape in awe, trying his best to comfort the angel but not really sure how to. Gasping with one last painful breath, Castiel faltered backwards into Dean's hands heaving in exhaustion. A light sweat glistened and gleamed upon his forehead, his eyes remaining shut for the time being. Unexpectedly, the angel's breath appeared to cease almost as if he had died then and there.

Flashing his eyes open suddenly, Dean realized that his brief moment with Castiel was over and Gaap had now returned. He reached a hand up towards Dean's throat, beginning to strangle the hunter with superhuman strength. Dean choked and gasped against the demon's grip, finding both of them arising from the floor swiftly. "Cas was right, you know?" Gaap said, arching an eyebrow at Dean, "You should've let him go just as far as he wanted."

Dean inhaled deeply, using all his strength to voice his final question. "Wh, what are you gonna do?" he managed to spit out.

Gaap pulled Dean closer so that their faces were almost touching – it was difficult to believe that just moments ago they had been joined in a passionate embrace. "Well," he muttered quietly, "You'll just have to wait and see, now won't you?"

In that moment, the motel door opened, both Sam and Bobby appearing before demon and hunter. It didn't take long for Sam to react to his brother being choked, whipping out Ruby's knife, ready to jab Gaap at any open opportunity. "Let him go!" Sam demanded fiercely, taking a vicious step forward.

Out of nowhere, Gaap retrieved his own blade, aiming it almost directly atop Dean's femoral artery. Dean's eyes widened in shock, not only at the fact he could potentially die in this situation, but also that Gaap was holding that knife awfully close to the family jewels. "Whoa there!" he gasped, trying to inch away from the blade as best he could.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you," Gaap advised, nodding in Sam's direction, "Now, you're gonna exactly what I tell you there, Sammy. First of all, put that pretty little toothpick of yours down." He watched carefully, his eyes tracing the silver as Sam lay the knife gently on the carpet. "Good, now step back. Keep going, keep going until you touch the wall." Once he was pleased that Sam was back against the wall, Gaap began to fish through Castiel's trench coat pocket in search of a rather specific item. At last he retrieved what appeared to look like a Molotov cocktail, only smaller. "It was nice chatting boys," he beamed widely, before chucking the bottle down towards the ground.

"No!" Sam hollered, covering his eyes as the glass came smashing onto the carpet and a thick mist came sprouting into the motel room. Both Sam and Bobby coughed vigorously, quickly scrambling for the hallway to escape the gas. "What the hell was that?" Sam asked after a moment, coughing through words.

Bobby cleared his throat. "Hell if I should know," he responded, his voice muffled from his shirt sleeve which still covered his face.

As the smoke gradually cleared Sam stepped forth once more to examine just what concoction the demon had used in his disappearing magic act. He crouched down, lightly shifting through the broken glass finding only remnants of what appeared to be oil and a handkerchief. Lifting the drenched cloth closer to his eyes, Sam could see that there were tiny symbols embroidered into the fabric. "I'll be damned," he mumbled, twisting and curving the cloth to get a better view, "It's a banishing sigil."

"What would he be carrying somethin' like that around for?" Bobby wondered, wheeling closer to Sam in order to take a look.

Sam cleared his throat, smelling the oil on his fingers – _Holy oil_, he determined silently to himself. "He used the banishment to teleport, the smoke was just affect," Sam responded in a low voice.

Bobby sighed wearily, rubbing a hand over his forehead in deep though. "Where do you think they could'a went?"

"Guess that's what we better get working on," Sam replied, standing tall, still overlooking the handkerchief in his hands. He frowned somewhat, reading the name scribbled in the far right corner – _Gaap._

* * *

Dean gasped partially from being choked only moments before and otherwise from the smoke bomb which had just exploded. He went stumbling onto a cold and slick floor, almost curling himself into a ball. The air around him was stale, smelling of paint and tires, similar to that of a body shop or garage. Looking around frantically Dean realized that he was in a warehouse of some kind, most, if not all, windows blotted up preventing him from knowing whether it was day or night.

Quickly Gaap emerged from behind him, gripping Dean forcefully by the shirt and dragging him backwards. Dean struggled within the demon's grasp, but it really didn't seem to make a difference. "You know, I was really hoping we could've prolonged the fun a bit," Gaap murmured wistfully, "But alas, your dopey brother had to go and ruin things. He seems to have a habit of doing so, don't ya think?"

"Screw you," Dean mumbled under his breath as he continued to be drug across the unfamiliar room. At last they came to a large table, which reminded Dean to something you'd see out of a horror movie about a cursed hospital or something. He fought against Gaap as he was slammed down onto its chilled surface, but still the demon was too strong for him. He soon found tight restraints clasped around both his wrists and ankles.

Gaap sighed, placing his hands on his hips and turning away to face the opposite end of the warehouse. A light clicking of heals could be heard echoing through the empty territory, indicating another presence was in the room. Dean tried to lift his head to see, but this position offered him little leverage for such gratification. Soon enough, however, his suspicions were confirmed as a pretty redhead stepped forth. She was wearing what could be assumed a female lawyer's outfit, all black with a slender frame to match. Stilettos were the source of the annoying tapping which could be heard with every step taken, and it came as no surprise when she flashed her eyes black to reveal her demonism. Taking a few more leisurely steps forward, she ran a hand across the smooth surface of the table before finally settling upon the skin on Dean's wrist.

Lightly her hot red nails tickled against the hair on the hunter's arms, both of their gazes locked in a tense and silent embrace. "Oh don't worry, honey," she said in an almost seductive tone, "We'll have plenty of time for fun. Believe me."

Dean's eyes darted between the two demons who were now smiling smugly, as someone had told an inside joke. He felt unnervingly anxious to find out just what they had in store for him, almost nauseous. In that moment, all he could do was stare at Castiel's body, hoping that the angel would indeed overpower Gaap and swoop in to save him once more.

* * *

Poor Deano, he's always seems to be the one getting captured. Ever notice that? Haha, I'll try to update a lot faster than before. Thanks for reading, reviews are appreciated!! ^_^


	7. Friends And Foes, Unite

**Disclaimer:** I own nothing, Supernatural belongs to Eric Kripke and large television corporations such as the CW. Any and all of the following is completely fictional and fan-made.

**Author's Note:** So in this chapter we see our little mystery redhead's identity revealed to us, as well as yet another group of characters are introduced… friends or foes? We'll also catch a glimpse as to what the demons have in store for Dean.

Just as a quick side note, when I was logging in here to post this I got one of those _Are You Human?_ things – the words were _Racks_ and _Damages_. Just thought that was interesting how the two coincide in the Supernatural world haha. Without anything further, please enjoy!!

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**Chapter Seven**

Sam and Bobby were frantic – there was absolutely no way they would be able to figure out where Gaap had taken Dean. There wasn't a trace, not a single freaking clue. Sam knew it and, despite his best optimism, deep down Bobby knew it too. The elder hunter sat in his wheelchair, elbow propped up in which to rest his head upon his hand. Sam, meanwhile, paced the floor anxiously running a hand through his lovely brunette locks. "What are we gonna do, what are we gonna do?" he kept mumbling over and over as he walked.

"I dunno," Bobby confessed, pinching the brim of his nose in exasperation.

"Oh no, of course not," Sam spat in agitation, "That would just make things too easy!"

Bobby glared at the young hunter who was beginning to wear on his last nerve. He scoffed, "Like you're mumbling is doin' us any good."

"Well, one of us has to do _something_," Sam retorted through partially clenched teeth.

"Hey, watch your tone with me boy. Who do you think I am?" Bobby frowned, feeling slightly taken aback at the Winchester's remark. After all the help he'd offered those boys, after all the sacrifices – Sam could at least show a little gratitude. Didn't have to be nothing fancy though.

"Bobby, I'm sorry," Sam sighed, exhaustion showing evidently in the boy's eyes.

"It's alright," Bobby sighed, feeling sympathy for poor Sam, "You just need to calm down is all."

Sam collapsed onto the nearby bed, placing his head in his hands. "And how am I supposed to do that, Bobby? Dean is out there missing, dead for all we know," he grumbled, sounding like a whiney four year old.

"Don't think like that," Bobby soothed, rolling himself over to the nearby refrigerator nestled in the corner of the small kitchen space, "You calm down firstly with this." With that, the hunter pulled a small bottle of what appeared to be brandy from a shadowed slot beside the refrigerator. Plopping the bottle down lightly on the counter, the hunter soon retrieved two small glasses in which he filled about halfway with the deeply tinted orange alcohol.

A lop sided grin spread over Sam's face as he eagerly took the cup the other hunter handed to him. "Brandy Bobby, really?" Sam chuckled somewhat, staring at the swirling liquid he held at eyelevel.

"You better believe it, kid," Bobby replied, taking a long sip in which a contented sigh followed shortly thereafter.

Sam sighed in equal contentment, allowing his shoulders to slump as if some heavy weight had just been pulled off of them. _Hmm,_ he mused silently to himself, taking yet another sip, _No wonder Dean drinks so much._

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Dean was an impatient person. As much as he hated to admit it, sometimes it was just the undeniable truth. And so, as he lay still sprawled out on the cold metal of this God-forsaken table, he could help but twitch impatiently waiting for the demons to make their move. Not that he didn't enjoy simple peace, but there had to be more to it than this – for the past half an hour, at least, Gaap and this other demonic broad had been off on the far side of the warehouse mumbling words in continuous Latin. Not a freaking word of English! Not. One. Word. Dean strained his eyes, attempting to steal a glance at their body language in which to maybe wrap his head around just a little bit of what they were saying – damn him for not paying attention during Latin class.

"Is est ridiculum Gaap – si nos operor non offendo iam, is may exsisto quoque tardus!" _(this is ridiculous Gaap – if we do not strike now, it may be too late!)_ the feisty redhead shouted, taking an angry step towards the demon possessing an angel.

Gaap shook his head, placing his hands on his hips in annoyance. "Quoque tardus?" he retorted, "Quisnam est iens ut reperio puer hic? Totus est tutis, ut ultum est guaranteed." _(too late? who is going to find the boy here? all is secure, that much is guaranteed.)_

The woman opened her mouth as if about to speak, when Dean decided to interrupt them suddenly. "Look," he cleared his throat, attempting to sound indefinitely stronger than he really was, "Can we can this show on the road here? I gotta take a leak."

The lady jerked her head towards him in almost an instance, her heels clicking once more as she drew nearer to his location. "Might I advise you to bite your tongue there, Dean," she snarled, looking upon him with disgust.

Dean arched an eyebrow, unable to deny the desire to fuel the flames of this conversation. "Or what?" he urged, curious to see just how this woman would respond. Oh how he enjoyed to push a demon's buttons.

"Or else I'll cut it off," she threatened, leaning in close until their faces were mere inches from each other, "Besides, you know just how much fun that can be – _cutting _and _carving_." She made sure to emphasize each word slowly and clearly, reviving Dean's past hauntings to the surface once more.

Dean's upper lips quivered – if he weren't strapped down to this table he'd been tearing her to shreds right about now. Gaap's eyes flickered between the two, laying a hand firmly on the woman's shoulder. "That is enough," he commanded.

With a smug smile on her lips, the woman pulled away, standing tall beside Gaap. "That's right," she snickered, "Don't' want to wear the poor Winchester out just yet."

"Okay, who are you and why should I care?" Dean spat, feeling fury bubble up deep inside the pit of his stomach.

"But Dean, surely you remember?" the woman questioned, tilting her head to one side. Dean furrowed his brow at her statement, becoming instantly confused. "I was called Flauros once – Flaura for short."

Dean's eyes widened as he was suddenly pulled back to the bowls of Hell. He could feel the flames licking against his skin clear as day, the distinct scent of sulfur ever present in the air. The heat no longer seemed to affect him though, the smell a mere discomfort compared to what he had been through in the past three decades. All the bleeding and weeping – it was enough to drive even the most daring of heroes into madness. Which it had. For Dean at least anyway.

And so here the hunter stood, now on solid ground, awaiting his first victim. Alastair soon entered through the clouded darkness, bearing what appeared to be a young girl – she had flaming red hair which twisted and flowed with the natural curves of her body, falling gently at hips' end. Her coal black eyes were wide with fright, unable to scream though as her lips had been sewn shut with precise yet thin stitching. She squirmed in her superior's grasp, twisting and yanking, trying to break her arms free from the position in which they were held behind her back.

"Now Flaura, don't struggle," Alastair scolded, sarcasm thick to his tone, "Your punishment shall be quick if you don't struggle, you know this." The girl, _Flaura_ apparently, shook her head vigorously as Alastair began to strap her to the rack. Her eyes pleaded desperately as if crying out no with all her might. "Yes, yes," Alastair murmured, an almost perverted grin coming over his lips.

As soon as he had secured her tightly, the demon turned to draw closer to his knew apprentice bearing razor in hand. Dean felt his stomach wretch in some kind of disgusting guilt, his heart doing unimaginable beats in the confinements of his rib cage. "Who is she?" he muttered quietly to his now master who stood beside him.

"That matters little," Alastair replied flatly, stroking his chin almost in deep thought, "What does matter, however, is that she's done wrong – something terribly, terribly wrong. Something in which she must be punished for. I'll be leaving that to you there, Deano."

With that, Alastair took Dean's hand in his own, opening the hunter's palm widely in which to place the folded razor neatly upon. He then closed Dean's hand, forcing him to bear the weapon – as if searing that instinct to bear a blade into Dean's very soul. "What has she done?" Dean managed to stammer, feeling suddenly very cowardly staring into Alastair's abyss-like eyes.

Alastair frowned, feeling irritation beginning to wash over him like a massive wave – how dare Dean question his authority? Stupid boy… "Do as I say, Dean," the demon threatened through gritted teeth, "Punish her."

Dean swallowed hard, stepping forth to the rack. He watched as this Flaura girl's eyes widened in pure terror as he flicked the razor open. He stood there silently for a moment longer, watching as the blade's silver glistened in the dull flame light. "Remember what I said, Dean. There is no going back," Alastair continued, his voice more eager and intense than ever before, "Do it." Dean stared Flaura right in the eye, twisting a curving the blade as he dove into her flesh – making her heave and hurl at his mercy, feeling almost whole again as he watched her desperately wanting to scream.

Suddenly, the hunter was brought back to reality, experiencing an unexpected pain of his own. He glanced down towards his hand, in which a bright red fingernail was puncturing his skin. His eyes quickly darted upward to face Flaura – she looked relatively similar. Redheads must be her personal preference, obviously. "You do remember, don't you?" she murmured quietly, lifting her finger to lick the blood from its tip.

Dean swallowed hard, his lips suddenly feeling unnervingly dry. He nodded silently, simply at a loss for words. He and Flaura shared an enraged yet longing stare for a moment longer before the hunter seemed to have found his voice at last. "I never even knew what you did," he said, his eyes searching hers which were now surprisingly human.

"That doesn't surprise me," she scoffed, "Alastair was never one to share the whole story anyhow." With that, Flaura turned on her heel, heading towards the far end of the warehouse once more.

"Wait!" Dean called after her, more desperation forming in his voice than he would've like, "What did you do? You have to tell me."

Flaura frowned in dismay, her eyes ablaze with a sudden anger. "I don't have to do a damn thing, Dean Winchester. You _battered_ and _bruised_ me, and you know you liked it," she growled almost, leaning close to the hunter's face once more.

Dean's eyes searched hers in desperation, he begged, "Please."

"If you insist," Flaura sighed, cocking her head to one side almost sarcastically, "I was Alastair's bitch, alright?"

Dean's eyes widened in shock – that certainly hadn't been the answer he was expecting. "Wait, what?" he stumbled on his words.

Flaura placed her hands on her hips, pacing back and forth next to the table. "Yeah, that's right. As much as I hate to admit it, I was Alastair's bitch – his little plaything to do with as he pleased," she continued, avoiding eye contact with the hunter.

"But why?" Dean gasped. He just couldn't picture why any poor bastard would want that position, it sent shivers down his spine just to think about it.

"Why did you start torturing?" she retorted quietly, "We all have our faults Dean, for anything's better than the rack. But you know, there's only so much a person can take after a while. We can't all have the angels come to our rescue." Her lower lip quivered as Dean could see moist tears beginning to form in her eyes. Flaura turned swiftly from her, wiping them away and sniffling ever slightly. "Adveho, permissum nos vado," she mumbled quietly to Gaap on her way past, which Dean understood as _come, let us go._

See, he did pay attention to Latin – somewhat. He watched in dismay as Gaap turned slowly to follow her, Castiel's trench coat flowing gracefully in the sudden turning movement. "You can't just leave me here," Dean spat, chuckling somewhat to disguise his fear. Having the company of demons was certainly better than being all alone in some eerie warehouse.

"Yes we can, and we will," Gaap replied flatly, a smug smile spreading over his lips, "Besides, we have much larger matters to attend to. Have fun." With that the demon slammed a large metal door, which lead to yet another shadowed room, behind him with an echoing boom.

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"Well that's no help," Bobby muttered, miserably tossing yet another book on top of the empty motel bed. On the one beside it, Sam had long since fallen asleep still clutching the brandy bottle firmly in his clutches. Bobby smiled a lop sided grin, rolling himself over to the bed to tuck Sam in – boy, days like these were when he thought of both he and Dean as his own sons. The elder hunter shook his head at that thought though, now definitely wasn't the time for regrets. There were bigger fish to be fried.

Barely daring to breath, as not to disturb Sam, Bobby slipped his hand around the bottle and pulled it lightly from Sam's grasp. He sighed wearily, pouring another glass of brandy for himself. _Maybe Sam's right,_ Bobby thought to himself as he examined the alcohol bobbing in his cup, _Maybe I should just call it quits._ He slammed the glass down roughly on the counter, laying his head in his hands. Dean was missing and they couldn't find him. The demons had him and who knows what they were even planning to do to the poor boy. He was Michael's vessel after all, which probably meant they weren't about to treat him to kindly. No, not in the slightest.

Bobby then lifted his eyes to glance around the room – it was starting to look less and less like a motel and more and more like his own home. Books scattered to and fro, leftover food and drink articles sitting and spoiling. What a freaking mess. This of course made his mood only slump lower, letting out yet another long drawn sigh. He quickly glanced over his shoulder, hearing Sam stir somewhat on the bed. He wanted to make sure the kid slept, he probably needed it. Not to mention that it would give him some peace, if only for an hour or so.

As the elder hunter rolled himself across the room in attempts to straighten things out, there came an unexpected knock at the door. He pulled his pistol from a nearby table, tucking it beneath his jacket to keep it concealed. He then wheeled over to the door, listening to what disturbance may be standing just beyond its barrier. "Who is it?" he called.

"Robert Singer, I presume?" a calm male voice spoke from the other side, "I implore you, open this door. Please."

Bobby debated silently to himself for a moment – if they were a demon, why bother knocking? Why not just bust down it and be on with it? Taking a deep breath, the hunter twisted the door knob, allowing entrance to whoever they may be. There before him stood a fairly young man, most likely in his early thirties, with sandy colored hair which was concealed by a white fedora. To match, he wore a simple white vest atop a teal colored shirt, dark jeans and plaid shoes to accompany him as well. Bobby eyed the man suspiciously from head to toe. "Well you sure don't look like housekeepin'," he muttered.

A light grin spread over the man's lips, his deep brown eyes staring down at Bobby. "Indeed not," he cleared his throat, "You may call me Balthial, for I am an angel."

"An angel eh?" Bobby arched his eyebrow slightly taken aback by Balthial's appearance, "Guess you better get in here then, sorry about the mess."

"It matters little," Balthial replied almost robotically, clasping his hands behind him as he timidly stepped into the motel room.

Instead of the angel's ever wondering gaze looking over every minor detail and imperfection as Bobby would've imagined, Balthial's eyes locked immediately on to Sam his expression peaceful and tranquil towards the boy. Bobby remained silent for a moment, before commenting, "I could get him up if you'd like?"

Balthial closed his eyes, inhaling deeply as is smelling something delicious or sweet. "No," he murmured, "Grant him rest, he'll be awakened soon enough."

"Whatever works," Bobby shrugged, wheeling off towards the kitchen, "Do you drink brandy?"

"No, thank you. But a glass of red wine would content me, seeing if you have it," Balthial spoke calmly, slowly, taking his time to pronounce each syllable carefully.

Bobby smirked to himself, he liked this guy. First angel actually daring to drink – other than Castiel, that is. Still, there was some kind of dignified manner that Bobby took a liking to with Balthial. He wasn't arrogant in his mannerisms, so much as he was just… classy! Pulling a slender wine bottle from the cupboard, Bobby emptied some of the blood-like liquid into a small glass. Now Bobby personally wasn't much of a wine drinker, but he usually kept a cheap bottle – red or white – on hand, in case of special occasions (which never seemed to turn up, by the way). Turning back to face the angel, he handed him the cup.

"There ya go. It's cheap but, what the heck," he chuckled somewhat, watching as Balthial simmered the scent of the wine like a real professional.

At last the angel brought the rim of the glass to his lips, only taking a small sip in which to indulge upon the flavor. He squinted his eyes in deep thought, before stating, "The price makes no difference to me. Every once and again, one must pamper their own desires, wouldn't you say?"

"So angels have desires now, do they?" Bobby raised his eyebrows, slightly put off by how casual the angel appeared to be – he could really get used to this Balthial guy.

"Oh, more than you know," Balthial smiled, taking a much longer sip of the wine this time, "Myself, personally, I fine wine to be one of the greatest gifts of man. The rich secrets hidden behind the unique flavors – purely divine, if I do say so myself. More, please."

Bobby made no protests, lifting the bottle towards the cup once more and emptying this time a greater amount of alcohol into it. "So uh, Balthial, what brings ya here exactly?" the hunter asked, crossing his arms lightly over his chest.

"Castiel, I've recently learned of his misfortunes," Balthial replied flatly, a certain sorrow beginning to show evidently in his eyes.

Bobby chuckled somewhat, "Which ones?"

Balthial nodded silently in agreement, he couldn't argue with Bobby's point. "I was unaware of his disobedience," the angel confessed, staring into the deep burgundy of the wine, "And now I hear Gaap has taken possession over him."

"That's the case," Bobby sighed wearily, downing the last drops of brandy with one throwback of his head.

"We should've realized something was wrong, the moment Castiel became possessed," Balthial commented, shaking his head almost in disgust. On that note, he lifted his own glass to his lips drinking more of the delectable wine.

Bobby glanced up at the angel in wonder, "And who's _we_ exactly?"

"The angels, the garrison," Balthial replied, flailing his arms into the air, "Possession was the first step, then came seduction. And now the demons have Dean Winchester within their confinements."

"Which all means?" Bobby asked intently, rolling just a little closer to where Balthial stood.

"I cannot know for certain," Balthial said honestly, locking gazes with the hunter, "But it doesn't take a Lord's angel to figure that the equation will not end pleasantly. The demons have something special prepared, and they've been brewing this for months. It's foolproof."

"Wait, what?" Sam suddenly interrupted, climbing out of the motel bed rather hurriedly. The young hunter stumbled somewhat with his footing, as his vision had suddenly been scrambled, but recovered quickly.

Balthial smiled at him. "Hello Samuel," he greeted happily.

"Who are you? Bobby who is this?" Sam urged, sounding more like an impatient child than a grown man.

Bobby sighed, rolling his eyes at the younger hunter. "This is Balthial, he's another angel," he explained.

"Really?" Sam snorted somewhat, placing his hands on his hips, "And just what the hell do you want?"

Bobby rubbed his forehead in growing irritation – despite the rest Sam had achieved the alcohol still wasn't out of his system. _Obviously._ Trying to get him to calm down, Bobby urged, "Sam, he's–,"

"No," Sam interrupted Bobby, his rate beginning to increase, "All I know is, the demons have Dean and these winged dicks no exactly what's going on!"

"Samuel, I don't know what has happened to your brother," Balthial cut in, trying to relieve Sam's building tension.

That attempt backfired. Instantly. "Bullsh–,"

"I don't," Balthial raised his tone, taking a firm step in Sam's direction. Sam snickered somewhat, shaking his head, his posture visibly relaxing. Just when Balthial was beginning to let his guard down, Sam hauled off punching the angel square in the jaw. Balthial wiggled the bone back and forth, a loud crack emulating, but he obviously was unaffected. "That was a mistake," he said simply.

"Yeah?" Sam egged the angel on, ignoring the intense throbbing in his fist, "And what are you gonna do about it?"

Balthial sighed, his expression bland with boredom. Raising two fingers to Sam's forehead, the boy's eyes quickly fluttered shut and he soon collapsed onto the floor. The angel overlooked Sam silently a moment longer, before turning back to face Bobby. "Is he always like that, may I ask?" he questioned solemnly.

"Uh, no. Brandy," Bobby shrugged, his gaze darting quickly between the two. "Anyhow, how are we gonna get Dean back and make Cas all squeaky clean?"

Balthial stroked his chin thoughtfully, his eyes glazed ever slightly. "It shalln't be easy, that goes without hesitation," he murmured, "I don't believe I'll have the support of the others either."

Bobby scoffed – no surprise there. "Can I ask you somethin'?" he said, curiously.

"Go ahead," Balthial nodded, granting Bobby permission to continue onward.

"Why are you doin' all this? Cas did disobey after all," the hunter stated simply.

"That much is true, but Castiel and I were close for a time. He was once, briefly, my superior. I've always admired his strength and courage. Did you know it was he who volunteered to mend Dean's soul?" the angel asked, some kind of new hope glistening in his eyes.

Bobby frowned somewhat, this was news to him. "No, I didn't," he confessed.

"Tis true," Balthial continued, "Many other angels were qualified for the position, but only Castiel actually asked to. Not many of my brothers were willing part with a piece of their grace, no matter how miniscule."

"Part of their grace? Sorry pal, I don't follow," Bobby replied, pretty fascinated with the story the angel had to tell.

Balthial continued, trying to explain it as simply as possible, "Oh yes. To raise a soul from Hell is not that of a typical task, mind you, but each one of us knew that angel would therefore be bound to human. Grace is in Dean Winchester, flowing and coursing through his veins, he simply hasn't discovered it yet."

Bobby leaned forward in his wheelchair, genuinely interested now. "And how is he supposed to find this grace?"

"This I do not know," Balthial murmured, resting his chin on his hands, "But I believe it would be revealed to Dean if he were to become Michael's vessel at last. Or any angel's vessel for that matter."

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Dean had only been alone for about twenty minutes or so and already the silence was threatening to consume him. Ever light twitch or tiny noise made him flinch, feeling weak and paranoid. Dean's breath suddenly quickened as he heard an unexpected shuffle from the corner of the room.

"Howdy there, Dean," a rather sarcastic voice rang out.

"Gah, Jesus!" Dean gasped, startled by the sudden presence now with him.

"Not quite," the voice echoed, taking a step closer to the table, "Gotta say, jumpy much?"

Dean furrowed his brow, trying to determine if he knew this man as he came forth from the shadows. He was a demon, obviously, but after his encounter with Flauros he was ready for just about anyone. "Screw you," he managed to mutter, regaining some of his confidence.

The man now stood only inches from Dean's confinements and the hunter could see that he was surprisingly pale, with brown spiky hair and brown t-shirt to match. He wore casual faded jeans, but a wristband was actually what caught Dean's eye – it was tightly fitting leather, a white pentagram drawn on the inside towards the vein. Dean raised his eyes to the demon, catching his piercing black stare. "Nah, maybe later. I'm sure you'd enjoy it," the man snickered, crouching down very close to Dean's face.

Dean licked his lips delicately. "Right," he muttered in thick sarcasm, "Now let me guess, you're Sir Douchelot."

"Oh that's funny right there Dean," the demon chuckled, suddenly whipping out a thin silver knife from behind him, "I'll bet it'll be even more funny, when I'm slicing you like a holiday ham."

"I think not, Aamon," a feminine voice suddenly rung out from behind them.

The male demon, Aamon apparently, turned swiftly to see a short blond woman striding into view. Her hair was cut close her head, spiked heavily with gel in the back. Her dress appeared typical, short sleeves, jeans with flip flops – the outfit you'd choose when expecting to be possessed by a demon. Or _not_ expecting, should I say? As she came into full view, Dean could see her eyes were a bright grey, highlighted by the heavy amount of black eyeliner surrounding them.

"Ah Kimaris," Aamon greeted unenthusiastically, "Looking slutty as ever, I see."

"Oh Aamon, you always were the flatterer," Kimaris replied in a just as equal lack of enthusiasm.

_Okay so Gaap, Flauros, Aamon, Kimaris, _Dean thought quickly to himself, trying to keep them straight. Where were they all coming from? More importantly, why were they all gathering here – what could be the significance?

"You know it, Kimmy," Aamon teased, watching as Kimaris boiled at the use of her apparently annoying nickname, "Why don't you come closer so I can show you a bit of my physical flattery?"

"Oh please," Kimaris scoffed, "You couldn't hurt me even if you wanted to."

"Children please," a familiar voice interrupted this time. Dean recognized it instantly – it was Castiel. Or Gaap, more or less. He strode forward, still wearing the hunter's beloved angel as his meatsuit

Kimaris smiled seductively at Gaap's appearance, eyeing him from head to toe. "That's nice Gaap," she retorted, "considering you only snag a good hundred years on me."

"_Two_ hundred years, if I'm not mistaken," Gaap corrected, directing his glance now at Dean who still laid strapped to the table, "How're you holding up there, Dean?"

"Ah well, I've had worst," Dean sighed, trying his best to hide his discomfort. He took back his thoughts of earlier – being alone definitely beat being stuck with demons.

Aamon placed his hands on his hips, his eyes darting between Dean and Gaap. "I sense a favoritism going on here. Deano here was nowhere near as kind to me," he pouted childishly.

Kimaris crossed her arms over her chest in amusement, snickering somewhat, "Maybe it has something to do with the fact that you deserve anything _except_ kindness–,"

"Not only that," Gaap interrupted, eyeing her woefully, "but I believe Dean has every right to show favoritism towards me."

"And why would that be?" Aamon asked, leaning his weight to one side.

Gaap tossed his fellow demon a smile, before replying, "Well, I am wearing angel extraordinaire Castiel after all."

"You lie!" Aamon gasped, his eyes widening as a broad grin covered his lips.

"Oh, believe me," Flauros chimed in, "he is. Went to Hell and back, literally, just to get this opportunity."

"Well, it looks like you just made this family reunion a bit more interesting," Aamon raised his eyebrows in delight, rubbing his hands together excitedly.

"Oh come on," Dean groaned, feeling worse than ever, "What is this? The freaking Brady Bunch?"

Flauros took a step forward, leaning down until the tip of her hair was lightly tickling Dean's nose. Delicately she used her fingernail to stroke the scab in which she had inflicted upon him earlier. "How about trying your worst nightmare," she grinned devilishly.

Dean wiggled and twitched his nose at the new and annoying itching sensation. "Oh yeah? And why is that?" he asked, putting on his brave face yet again.

"Cause, Dean," she replied gently, stroking his cheek with her free hand, "You haven't met all of us yet." Dean's brow creased in bewilderment, watching as she stood back join the others. Suddenly, the remaining lights of the room were flicked on, revealing another good twenty or thirty demons in the room. Each one bore their trademark eyes, all looking very similar in their expressions.

The hunter swallowed hard, unable to keep his gaze focused on just one demon in particular. If there was ever a time in which Dean Winchester was completely screwed, this would be it. Freaking royally too.

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Alright, so I owe much thanks to the brilliant EsScaper. If you check out the reviews, they made a remark about Flauros being one of the souls tortured by Dean during his years in Hell. Can you spell genius? I simply had to take that offer up!

Sorry if this chapter skipped around a whole lot between Sam and Bobby and then where Dean is. I didn't want to reveal too much too fast, so I suppose that's a decent excuse xD

Thanks for reading, reviews are love!!


	8. Behind The Scenes

**Disclaimer:** I own nothing, Supernatural belongs to Eric Kripke and large television corporations such as the CW. Any and all of the following is completely fictional and fan-made.

**Author's Note:** Alright, so I'm gonna be completely honest with you all here – most of the time when I start a story, I get so caught up in the thrill of the introduction that I don't actually take the time to create the rest of the plot. Terrible fault, I know. At any rate, that happened with this story. After the first two or three chapters I just dreaded to update cause I didn't know where to take it.

But alas, fear not! I've rekindled my love for this story and now know exactly where the road leads. Just thought I'd get that off my chest and reassure you that this is not going to be left sitting dusty anytime soon haha. Without any more of my rambling, please enjoy!!

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**Chapter Eight**

Dean visibly trembled, his eyes scattering frantically around the room as he looked over each and every demon. They all stood in that same posture, proud and semi-slouched, staring him down viciously. The hunter swallowed hard, feeling like he was now naked in the middle of a huge crowd – he may as well have been. At last Dean directed his hazel eyes back towards Flauros, who was just bubbling with excitement over his apparent bewilderment.

"Flaura, who are all these demons?" he spat, his voice coming out a lot more needy than he would've preferred.

"Well," Flaura sighed, stroking her chin thoughtfully, "I could take the time to name each one of them, but I highly doubt you'd remember. You always did make it a habit to _forget_."

Dean's upper lip quivered as he bit back a vicious reply – the last thing he wanted to do was make a remark that would insult each and every thirty-so demons that crowded around him. Gritting his teeth me muttered, "Tell me just what the Hell is going on." He glared daggers at Flaura, feeling heat beginning to radiate to his cheeks.

"Oh feisty, I like that," Flaura laughed obnoxiously, "but see, if I told you than all the fun would be over. And we don't want that, now do we?" As she spoke, her human eyes disappeared as vicious black poured over them like spilt ink.

Dean could feel his anger rising even further at her lack of information – _Keep it cool_, he thought to himself, exhaling wearily. "Oh, believe me, I'm laughing inside," he retorted sarcastically, "Can't you just give me a hint or something?"

Flaura stared him down for a moment. Even though Dean couldn't actually see where she was looking, he could tell that she was intently focused on him – _debating_, which was of course a good thing. She spoke at last, "I suppose it couldn't hurt. Fine, I'll let you in on a secret. How does that sound?" Dean nodded silently leaning in closer to Flaura as he directed him with a single slender finger. The demon bent her head close to the hunter's ear whispering ever quietly, "We're throwing a dinner party, and you're the main course there, Dean."

Dean's brow creased in further confusion. "What does–,"

"Not so fast, I don't mean literally of course," Flaura snickered devilishly, placing his earlobe between her teeth and biting down hard.

Dean felt a stinging pain surge through him. It wasn't immense, but it did hurt quite a bit. "Agh, you son of a bitch," he growled under his breath.

Flaura pulled away, lifting a hand to wipe away the tiny smear of blood which had collected on her bottom lip. "Funny," she muttered, licking the irony liquid from her fingertips, "I was going to say the same thing about you."

Dean's jaw tightened automatically – he didn't have a problem with demon's calling _him_ names, he could live with that, but when the slumped to dissing his family then there was a problem. He was just about to cough up some smartass reply, when Aamon decided to step in. "I hate to interrupt this little gag fest," he cleared his throat, "but I think we ought to give the boy some rest – don't want him all worn out before his time comes."

Flaura obeyed and took a step back to rejoin the others, that sickening grin still plastered across her face. "If you think for a second I'm gonna sleep, well you better think again there pal," Dean mumbled, now directing his gaze at Aamon who stepped forth.

"Oh, I actually I count on it," Aamon retorted smugly. With that, he raised a fist high into the air, before smashing it down into Dean's face with impeccable force. In an instant all went black and Dean was out.

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Sam's eyelids flickered open slowly, the world coming back to him is one rushing flurry. He blinked a few more times, his vision changing from a splotchy blur to crystal clarity. Raising his body from the mattress upon which he lay, he grunted in slight pain. He lifted a hand to feel the back of his head, a large egg-like lump throbbing there.

"My apologies," Balthial smiled sheepishly, coming into Sam's view.

Sam furrowed his brow in confusion, eyeing the man before him suspiciously. He had absolutely no clue who this guy was. "Sorry uh, do I know you?" he asked, sliding his legs off the bed and placing them firmly onto the floor below.

"You may call me Balthial," the angel replied, taking a step forward, "We met earlier, but our confrontation was, how should I say, _heated._"

Sam's eyes widened as realization finally dawned on him. "You're an angel, aren't you?" he asked, almost groaning as he spoke.

"Indeed I am," Balthial said, ignoring the irritated edge to the young hunter's voice, "You punched me in the face. I felt nothing, but your hand should regain its throbbing right about now I believe." Almost instantly Sam felt an almost overwhelming pain spike in his fist. He gasped slightly, clutching his close to his chest, cradling it similarly to an infant. The hunter went to take a step forward, stumbling somewhat as his legs still felt unsteady. "Careful, we don't want you falling again," Balthial mumbled gently, immediately at Sam's side.

Balthial led Sam over to the nearby table, his hand placed firmly aside his ribs for support. Slipping the hunter into one of the seats, he then took a seat beside Sam clasping his hands lightly upon its top. "Thanks," Sam murmured, looking Balthial over almost suspiciously.

Balthial nodded silently, acknowledging Sam's appreciation. "Robert went to collect an assortment of provisions for me. He should be returning shortly," he stated, as if reading Sam's mind as the hunter glanced around the fairly empty motel room.

"Oh," Sam replied in a hushed tone, "What do you need?"

"Salt, rosemary, white vinegar, and a pinch of black pepper – but only a minuscule amount, we don't its darkness to overpower the otherwise pleasant effects of this ritual."

"And what is it you plan to conduct exactly?" Sam frowned, slightly perplexed. He'd never heard of such common ingredients used to perform an angel ritual.

Balthial smiled faintly to himself. "It's of my own concoction, I believe it may help in locating your brother," he cleared his throat in response.

Sam's eyes widened, now really and truly interested in what this angel had to say. "You know about Dean?" he asked breathlessly.

"But of course," Balthial responded simply, not quite understanding Sam's astonishment.

"So why haven't the angels pitched in to help through any of this?" Sam snorted somewhat, shrugging his shoulders.

Balthial licked his lips delicately, "Last I recall you and your brother weren't exactly willing to help the heavenly host. You do remember Castiel concealing you with your rib carvings?"

Sam sighed, he honestly hadn't taken all that into consideration. "Sorry," he muttered, lowering his eyes apologetically.

"Do not take it to heart," Balthial replied, "If it is any consolation, I'm here to help you now, which increases the chance that you will find your brother."

"The demons took him," Sam said.

Balthial nodded, "I am aware."

"Do you have any idea what they want with him?" Sam asked, leaning in a bit closer to the angel.

"I do not, unfortunately. Though I don't believe killing Dean is on their agenda if it brings you comfort," Balthial answered, catching Sam's gaze.

The two just sat there in silence for a moment, staring at one another ever longingly. Sam watched how the rich chocolate and mahogany of the angel's irises seemed to swirl together in a luscious embrace, realizing that there was definitely something he liked about Balthial. So far, with the exception of Cas, Sam's opinion of angels had been pretty low especially with their tactics, so on and so forth. But Balthial, he was kind – _comforting_. It seemed that even if dooms day was going down, he still would find a light at the end of the tunnel. Optimism, that's what Sam liked. It reminded him so much of himself, how he used to be…

"There is hope, Sam," Balthial whispered, his gentle voice allowing reality to reclaim the hunter once more.

Sam blinked vigorously, now realized that he and Balthial were only inches from each other – he could feel the angel's breath lightly against his face, and it sent shivers down his spine. He opened his mouth, ready to speak, when just then the door opened. Bobby came rolling in swiftly, baring a large paper sack upon his lap. Immediately hunter and angel sprung away from each other, making for the door to help Bobby.

"Did you get all of my requirements?" Balthial asked anxiously.

Bobby glared at him somewhat – he'd just spent the last hour or so looking for the very specific _requirements_ Balthial had asked for. _Damn angel,_ Bobby thought miserably to himself. "Yeah, yeah, I got'em. Now get outta my face boy," he muttered, swatting both Sam and Balthial away from him.

Sam placed his hands on his hips, stroking his chin thoughtfully as he overlooked the ingredients. "So how exactly does this work?" he asked, puzzled as Balthial began to examine the articles carefully.

Balthial had crouched down, lifting the dried rosemary herbs to his nose in which to smell. "Using a specific combination of Latin and Enochian, a large sigil must be drawn," he explained standing back up, "Larger than anything you're likely to have seen before. It requires one further ingredient."

"But I just ran out and got all you're damn knickknacks!" Bobby retorted, feeling frustration bubble up towards the angel.

"I realize, and I appreciate your help Robert," Balthial smiled sheepishly, glancing downward at the hunter, "but there is one material I did not ask you to collect on purpose. I must go by special means to get it."

With that the angel swiftly glided over towards the door, slipping out a thin silver knife in which he tried to keep concealed. Never the less, Sam had caught a glimpse of the blade and this made him gravely concerned. "Wait!" he called after Balthial, "Let me go with you."

"No Sam, I'd prefer it if you didn't," Balthial replied simply, not turning to face the hunter with his hand still clutching the door knob.

Sam swallowed hard, feeling panic begin to churn in the pit of his stomach. "Please, what are you going to do?" he asked in a hushed tone.

Balthial sighed wearily, "I shall return shortly." And then, much to Sam's surprise, the angel was gone in a whoosh of feathers. Way to make a speedy exit…

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Dean's eyes flickered open slowly, the spinning world finally coming to an abrupt halt. He took a deep breath, coughing almost instantly as the cold air entered his lungs. This wasn't right, the air in the warehouse had been fairly warm. Sitting up, Dean realized that he was no longer chained to a steel table, but lying on moist grass – in a forest. His brow creased in confusion as he stood up, overlooking his surroundings. An assortment of tall pine and other evergreen trees towered above him, shading his gaze of the presumably starlit sky. Surrounding the hunter there appeared to be no sense of direction what so ever, it was all the same scene. Except in front of him – there lay a thin dirt trail which led to what looked like a clearing.

Dean shivered slightly, the chilly night air really beginning to take a toll on him. That's when Dean realized it – he'd been stripped of his heavy jacket _and _his t-shirt, leaving him only in a bare chest and jeans. _Fan-freaking-tastic!_ Dean thought to himself, crossing his arms over his chest miserably.

Huffing and puffing from the ever persistent cold, Dean kept strictly along the path hoping it would lead him to some kind of civilization. A paved road at the very least, that's all he was praying for. Suddenly, he jerked his head, hearing a loud snapping of branches to his right. There came a flutter of wings from escaping birds as the flew into the twilight. Dean swallowed hard, seeing a shadow move amidst the woodland. There came another unexpected pop from behind him, and so the hunter turned feeling frantic like a caged animal. He wasn't about to get cornered though – bolting forward, Dean jogged along the narrow path, keeping his eyes fixated on the ground. _Someone always trips,_ Dean thought to himself, thinking back to the countless horror movies he'd seen with similar scenarios. Someone was always running and somehow always managed to fall._ Always_.

Lifting his eyes above, Dean stopped abruptly, feeling his heart threaten to burst right out of his chest. He panted wildly as he caught his balance, just in time to keep from falling off the edge of what was apparently a cliff. Where had the ledge even come from?! Before him, a misty fog clung over what lay below the jagged rocks, which was presumably water. Feeling a bit more stable now, Dean leaned forward just an inch or so to see how far he would've fallen. He whistled lightly, seeing as it was a good twenty or thirty foot drop to the next ledge. He felt undeniably grateful, but suddenly something caught his eye.

Dean crouched down close to the ground, to get a better look at what was linger on the cliff. Not what, but who – it was a person. He squinted his eyes, desperately trying to identify them. Dean's eyes widened, his heart stopping cold. It was Castiel – Dean was sure of it, seeing the angelic innocence glowing in his ocean blue eyes. The sparkled glossily as the angel gazed up at Dean, an unsatisfied frown upon his lips. Castiel mouthed something silently, but Dean couldn't quite make out just what he had said.

"Cas! Cas, stay there! I'm gonna get to you!!" Dean shouted at the top of his lungs – but no sound came out. All he could hear was the now ever present sound of crashing waves below. As if he'd heard nothing, Castiel turned away from Dean to face the edge upon which he stood. "Cas, no! Cas! Cas!" Dean hollered desperately, looking around for _any_ way to get down there. To no avail, no entry was provided. Dean watched in unbearable horror as Castiel stretched his arms out to either side of his body, allowing his body to fall forward into the misty abyss.

Feeling every muscle in his body jolt, Dean's eyes flew open, shivers flying down his spine. He blinked vigorously, trying to regain his eyesight seeing as the bright light above him had just blinded him. He panted, feeling nerves still twisting and wrenching in the pit of his stomach. Grunting somewhat, Dean tried to stretch, finding his arms and legs still secured tightly in place.

"What were you dreaming about there, Dean?" Gaap asked casually, picking at his fingernails.

"What?" Dean gasped, jolting his head around frantically, still lost in utter confusion.

Gaap sighed, leaning forward on the tiny fold out chair in which he sat upon. "Was it Hell?"

Dean's face fell, feeling suddenly irritated at the demon's presence. "What's it to you?" he snapped, glaring viciously at Gaap.

"Ouch," Gaap said sarcastically, "PMS much?"

Dean said nothing in response, remaining silent for a moment longer as to allow his anger time to cool off. "So where'd the other lugnuts scamper off to?" he mumbled, looking around to find the warehouse empty once more.

"Oh, they're in the next room, but don't worry they'll be back soon," Gaap beamed widely.

Dean cleared his throat, redirecting his view up towards the ceiling. He muttered, "Fantastic."

Gaap continued on his cynical stroll, "I know, isn't it? Not much longer now." With that, he sighed contently, cracking the tab on his beer can.

"Not much longer 'til what?" Dean asked, swinging his head around to face the demon once more.

"See Dean, that's one reason why I chose such a wonderful host," Gaap chuckled somewhat, glancing over Castiel's body before sipping a bit from his can, "I like you. Or, should I say your naivety, more or less."

"Ah, screw you," Dean growled somewhat, yanking slightly at the restraints which held his wrists. He certain was not pleased with Gaap's lack or response to his questions.

"Well, if you insist," Gaap retorted smugly, placing his beer can lightly onto the concrete floor below. On that note, he strode purposefully over to the table upon which Dean lay, hopping up, and spreading over the hunter. Dean's body instinctively jolted, his breath increasing swiftly causing his chest to bob up and down. "Now if you would've just been able to convince your angelic fuck buddy in here to go with the flow back at the motel room, truth be told you wouldn't be in this mess right now, Dean," Gaap leaned in closer to Dean's face, whispering in a hushed tone.

"What?" Dean spat, surprised at how quiet his own voice was coming out, "What are you even talking about?"

The demon sighed, flicking his eyes to black as he examined Dean lustfully. "Dean, Dean, Dean," he murmured, lifting up the hem of the hunter's shirt to playfully stroke the soft skin of Dean's stomach, "It didn't have to be like this. If Castiel would've just consented you wouldn't be here, strapped to a table." Gaap chuckled somewhat as he spoke.

Dean wriggled uncomfortably beneath Gaap's body, feeling oddly turned on by the way the demon caressed him so tenderly. "I wouldn't?" Dean asked, just trying to keep the conversation going. The last thing he wanted was to fall into an awkward silence which could lead to other things – _many_ other things.

"Okay, I lie," Gaap confessed, sighing wistfully, "You'd still be here, but in better circumstances. See Dean, nothing just _happens_ anymore. It's all, how should I say, part of a bigger picture."

"Now you're just sounding like Cas," Dean muttered, exhaling deeply as Gaap began to licentiously run his hands over the hunter once more.

"And is that necessarily a bad thing?" Gaap snickered somewhat, arching an eyebrow suggestively, "I mean, can you picture it Dean? Angel and demon combined – sounds a bit kinky, don't ya think?"

Dean's brow furrowed in almost disgusted confusion. He responded hesitantly, "I honestly never gave it much thought."

Just when Dean thought Gaap's smile couldn't get any wider, guess what? It did! The demon leaned in so close to Dean, that the hunter could feel his steaming breath against his ear. Gaap whispered, seduction thick to his tone, "Oh but I have. And believe me, Castiel has too. But you know, I just wish he'd shut up for one stickin' second. Freaking angel, he drives me insane!"

Dean jolted somewhat at Gaap's sudden outburst close to his ear. Shaking it off, he continued asking, "Cas talks to you?"

"Oh yeah, twenty-four fucking seven!" Gaap shouted, waving his arms around frantically in the air, "I don't think he likes me very much. He's constantly thrashing and shrieking against my soul in this tight space. Quite frankly it's all getting a bit tiresome."

"So why don't you just go ahead and smoke right outta there, then? Huh, find a new body to play dolls with?" Dean urged, finally feeling that he was getting the answers he wanted.

Gaap chuckled, "Again Dean, back to the naivety? You really are about as dumb as you look. But let's go back to what I was saying, shall we? Nothing just _happens_, there's all a reason behind it – a focus, a gain, call it what you will. When I crammed myself into Castiel here, which wasn't an easy task by the way, I had a point. Reasoning. That reason, Dean, was you."

Dean's eyes widened in disbelief – what was that supposed to even mean?! Before the hunter caught a second to sort out his thoughts, he found Gaap's lips pressed firmly to his own in some kind of distorted yet passionate embrace. Unconsciously, Dean could feel his member hardening deep in the bowls of his jeans as Gaap continued to rub and tenderize all the right places on Dean's body. Abruptly though, Dean turned his head away from the demon – he still had questions he wanted answered. "Wait," he gasped, "What the Hell is that supposed to mean?"

Gaap gazed down at the lovely hunter, sighing in dismay. Things were really just starting to get good. "What does what mean?" he retorted.

"Me being your reason, don't try to pull that sentimental crap on me," Dean spat, seeing the look of disappoint glistening in the demon's still black eyes.

Gaap tried to avoid the subject, just wanting to get on with the action, "Dean–,"

"Spill it," Dean interrupted firmly, "There must be some reason why you want any of this lovin' so badly."

The demon licked his lips delicately, "Causa est vero secundum os." With that, he flicked his eyes back to Castiel's signature cerulean.

"Come again?" Dean frowned in bewilderment.

"Reason is indeed behind the mask," Gaap clarified, "There is a motive as to why I want to screw you to no end – corruption of the innocent."

Dean openly laughed at Gaap's statement, "Look pal, innocence is not a word used to describe me. In case you don't realize, I lost that a _long_ time ago."

"What do you think I am, stupid? Wait, don't answer that," Gaap cleared his throat awkwardly, "Of course I know you're not a virgin, idiot. But Castiel is – thanks to you, he almost lost that, but alas he is still pure."

"What's your point?" Dean shrugged, trying to disguise the dread that was now beginning to bubble up inside him.

"Castiel can help," Gaap retorted, smiling once again. On that note, he promptly lifted himself from Dean, walking across the floor to collect his beer can.

Dean spat, "How?" His voice sounded much more needy than he would've like it to, but that mattered little at this point.

Gaap turned to face Dean once more, drinking some more of his beer before answering. "He can help us win, that's how," he said punctually, "Castiel can help us reach our goal and get Lucifer into a more, how should I say, _deserving_ body."

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The clock played a low musical jingle as it struck the hour. Balthial had been gone for a least two, if not more by now, and quite frankly Sam was getting pretty annoyed at this point. _This better work_, Sam thought to himself. He sat in one of the motel room's many chairs, shaking his leg anxiously.

Bobby huffed in annoyance, "Damned idgit. If doesn't get back soon, I'm gonna be using his little ingredients to roast a chicken." A light grin flickered across Sam's lips, somehow Bobby's insults seemed to make the best humor.

Then, almost as if on cue, Balthial appeared with a sound of rushing feathers. He placed a clay jug, similar to that in which to bear holy oil, light on the table before clearing a large space on the floor by moving objects with his feet.

"What are you doing?" Sam asked, immediately jumping to his feet.

"There must be a large space provided for the sigil, as I explained earlier," Balthial replied simply, "Time is short and so we must hurry."

Sam's eyes widened as Balthial lifted the container from the table and began to poor a thick red liquid into a puddle formation on the floor. The angel then crouched down, dipping his entire hand into the liquid, and began to paint mismatch symbols in a circular pattern. "What is that?" Sam gasped breathlessly.

Balthial's eyes never left his work, his voice monotone as he spoke, "Blood."

"I can see that, I mean where did it come from?" Sam urged, feeling panic begin to well up inside him.

"A newborn lamb, I slaughtered it," Balthial explained quietly, feeling just slightly guilty as the words rolled off his lips, "Rosemary." Bobby was quick to hand the angel the herb, watching in fascination as he spoke an Enochian chant while sprinkling it amidst the lamb's blood. Balthial continued with his orders until at last only the salt and black pepper were left. Tilting the bag of salt downward, the angel drew a perfect circle around the large and bloody sigil. At last he took a miniscule amount of black pepper in his fingertips and muttered the words, "Zamran ollog oiad lama." _(show me the path.)_ He then cast the condiment into the center, watching as the whole circle burst into pure white flame.

Both Sam and Bobby had to shield their eyes from the blinding light, cowering back as Balthial took a fearless step forward. The angel's lips moved stealthily, but no sound could be heard. Suddenly, with his arms outstretched wide, Balthial threw his head upward his expression blank in awe. There came a soft whisper of almost choir-like voices emulating from the sigil, comforting to the ear. And suddenly, a blood curdling scream shook the very walls of the room, filling both of the hunters with unrest. Finally, with a single flash, all was silent and the flames vanished into shadows.

Balthial allowed his head to droop, appearing dead if only for a moment. Sam was instantly at the angel's side, gripping his shoulders in support. "What did you hear?" the young hunter murmured quietly, his voice barely grazing a whisper.

"Dean, he is alive," the angel managed to sputter, still very much out of breath.

Sam felt as if a tremendous lead weight had just been pulled from his shoulders, such relief. "Where is he, do you know?" he urged lightly, leaning in just a little closer to Balthial's ear.

"Fond du Lac," Balthial choked, directing his head upward once more, "Wisconsin, you're brother is in Wisconsin."

"Wisconsin," Bobby echoed in disbelief – that was a quarter-way across the freaking nation! _Why'd the demons take him there?_ The elder hunter thought silently to himself.

Sam, meanwhile, helped Balthial into a nearby seat offering the angel a glass of water. Balthial accepted it with much pleasure, gulping the refreshing liquid down with remarkable speed. When Balthial had finished, he slammed the cup down on the table and laid his head in his hands. "Are you alright?" Sam asked, concern clearly evident in his voice.

"I shall be, soon I hope," Balthial smiled, allowing his eyelids to slip shut.

With that, Sam arose swiftly from the table, making for his bag which lay on the nearby bed. "We should be making for the road then," he said quietly, beginning to pack loose knickknacks into the duffle.

"I would teleport us," Balthial explained, "but I feel rather strained for the now."

"Yeah you better get to it," Bobby agreed, wheeling a bit closer to both angel and hunter.

Sam creased his brow in semi-confusion. He asked, "But what are you gonna do, Bobby?"

"Eh, Rufus still has some sorta showdown going on in Jersey. I'll give'im a call and see what I can do," the elder hunter replied simply, shrugging.

"Bobby, thanks. For everything," Sam smiled, placing a hand on Bobby's shoulder.

"Yes Robert," Balthial thanked the hunter also, arising from the table, "Your kindness is very much appreciated."

"It's nothin'," Bobby smiled in return, his eyes darting between the two, "Well, you better hit the road, gotta a lot of driving ahead of you."

Sam sighed wearily – if there was anything he hated more than sitting in the passenger's seat for an extended amount of time, it was sitting behind the wheel for an extended amount of time. But it was for a good reason, they were going to save Dean after all. And so Sam shoved down any groans of complaint he felt bubbling up within him, this was for his brother's sake and so he'd just have to deal.

Bobby watched solemnly as Sam and Balthial exited the motel room, closing the door lightly behind them. He was now left in solitude with his three best pals – Me, Myself, and I.

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Woo Hoo!! I am on fire! Haha, don't expect an update this quick for a couple of days ^___^

At any rate, I suppose you could say this was sort of a filler chapter, but I just thought it was important to get some of these details out of the way. In the next chapter we'll dive more in depth with just what the demons have up their sleeves. Until then, thanks for reading!!


	9. Turn The Other Cheek, Darling

**Disclaimer:** I own nothing, Supernatural belongs to Eric Kripke and large television corporations such as the CW. Any and all of the following is completely fictional and fan-made.

**Author's Note:** Sorry for the delay in updating – the school year is coming to an end in about two weeks or so and that means finals. Gag me haha. Anyhow, we see a greater explanation revealed here so I hope you will enjoy that. And, for all you Balthial fans, we'll see a little side romance too hehe. Without anything further, please enjoy!

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**Chapter Nine**

After their little chit chat, Gaap had insisted Dean give it a rest and relax. To try and sleep. Only problem with that was, Dean wasn't very much tired. Instead he was anxious, and nervous, and scared out of his freaking wits! He had no clue what was going to happen next. Yes, Gaap had told him that Castiel was going to help them, the demons, win the apocalypse but the hunter still didn't understand how Lucifer was going to get into a better vessel. There was no way Sam was ever going to say yes, Dean wouldn't allow it, and so far they didn't know of any other angelic vessels that existed. Except Jimmy, of course.

But Lucifer riding around in Jimmy? To put the devil's name with that face – it gave Dean shivers just to think about. It was bad enough having to deal with Gaap, but freaking Satan was a completely different story. So Dean did about the only thing he could do, he sighed. And when that didn't relieve the pressure he felting building within him, these annoying jitters, he sighed again. Again, and again, and again – nothing.

Finally, the rusty door on the far wall opened with a loud creaking and Gaap stepped through followed by a very irritated Flaura. In her hands she held a round plate littered with what appeared to be a tasty looking meal, in which Dean hoped was for him. Honestly, he couldn't remember the last time he had eaten and so when the smell of decadent chicken, mashed potatoes, and gravy entered his nostrils the hunter couldn't help from swallowing hard to keep the drool from slipping out of his lips. Flaura huffed wearily, slamming the plate of food onto the seat of the chair in which Gaap had been sitting earlier. She then strode purposefully over to where Dean lay, lifting a large key out from behind her.

"What are you doing?" Dean demanded, not trying to sound as surprised as he felt.

Flaura caught his gaze for only the briefest of moments, before returning her eyes to the locks in front of her. "What does it look like?" she challenged, "Gaap _insisted_ we get some food in you. Don't want you running weak on us, now do we?"

"Oh don't sound so caring Flaura," Dean mocked sarcastically.

Flaura scoffed, "It's not like you're not already weak to begin with but—,"

"Flauros, that's enough," Gaap chimed in, his eyes black as he spoke. He stood a few feet away from the table, his arms crossed firmly over his chest as he leaned his weight to one side.

Dean still had to admit though, it was rather odd seeing who he had only thought of as Castiel standing in such a position. Hell, it was strange anything that seemed to come out of his mouth lately, but Dean supposed he was just going to have to get used to it. He grunted slightly as his wrists were freed at last, messaging the skin which had now become raw by this time.

Flaura gripped him firmly by the forearm, jerking him towards her so he had to look her in the eye. "You try one thing though," she warned, "one stinkin' thing, and I'll be locking your ass back up six ways from Sunday. Got it?"

Dean said nothing, gritting his teeth as he nodded silently at Flaura. Without another word, the fierce beauty disappeared from the room once more, her heels clicking on the floor as she walked speedily. As the door slammed, echoing unnervingly through the otherwise hushed room, Dean almost immediately hopped off the table picking up the warm plate in his hands. He closed his eyes, inhaling deeply at the delicious scent of food. In the back of his mind though, he secretly hoped none of it was poisoned – that would just be his luck.

"You're welcome," Gaap cleared his throat, holding a single fork in his hand.

Dean accepted the utensil, muttering his appreciation, "Thanks." Not even cutting his poultry into proportional sized pieces for his mouth, the hunter began to slop his mess of food all together, cramming it in his mouth. He murmured contently, demonic food or not this shit was _good_. Abruptly he paused, looking up at Gaap who was contently staring back at him. "What?" he asked through a large mouthful.

Gaap blinked semi-awkwardly, looking away from the hunter's wide mouth of chewed food. "Nothing," he replied, "If only we'd fed you sooner, you'd agree to anything we asked."

Dean chuckled somewhat at the demon's humor. He made a good point – Dean was a food fanatic, there was no denying it. "So, uh, what happens next?" he said at last, dying to have some satisfaction over his curiosity.

Gaap sighed, pulling a pocket watch from a long silver chain from his pocket watch. His eyes watched as the tiny hand slowly clicked around each number. "Any minute now," he murmured quietly, mesmerized by the watch's ticking.

"Til what?" Dean asked breathlessly, finding himself edging closer to the demon.

Suddenly Gaap gasped out in pain, clutching his temples as he was driven onto his knees. "Ah, Dean!" a more familiar voice called out. It was deeper, gruffer, _angelic_.

Dean allowed his plate to fall to the floor as well in a loud and booming crash, by the now angel's side instantly. "Cas? Cas?" he cried, holding his companion firmly by the shoulders.

Castiel's hand grasped Dean's in a tight embrace as the angel still writhed in pain. Almost as if on cue, Flaura burst through the archway once more a group of four or five other demons following behind her this time. "Take him," she ordered to the other demons, who followed instructions and grabbed Castiel away from Dean.

"No! Cas, Cas!" Dean hollered, trying his best to fight off the larger and bulkier men who were possessed. One burly man shoved him away, knocking the hunter onto the floor once more.

Flaura was quickly at Dean's side, however, pulling him once more by the shirt before pinning him against the wall. For her host being such a short and slender woman, Dean was surprised at how well she kept him stuck there – helpless to watch as the husky demons before him tossed Castiel around like a football. The hunter physically flinched at he saw one demon land his foot forcefully into the pit of Cas's stomach. The angel gasped in pain, a small amount of crimson blood spewing from his lips. Dean pressed against Flaura's steady grip, heaving as she threw him back against the wall once more.

"Suck it up, Deano," she muttered coldly in his ear, "Your angel's gonna get a lot worse than this."

Dean's jaw tightened in irritation, refusing to match Flaura's gaze, which he was sure was smug with some kind of sick pride. "Ah bite me," he retorted.

"Don't tempt me, Winchester," she muttered, her voice layered with a lustful seduction. Taking advantage of this moment, she ran her long red fingernails delicately over the hunter's body craving more and more of his soul. Flauros wanted nothing more than to get revenge on him for the God-awful things Dean had done to her. "Moments like these are when I envy that angel most," she whispered under her breath eyeing Castiel in disgust as he rolled on the floor in agony.

Dean swallowed hard, feeling broken and empty as he was helpless to aid the angel – _his_ angel. All he could do was stand against this wall and watch as Castiel bled out feebly.

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Sam and Balthial had been driving for most of the day, and by now they could both agree that a well deserved rest was in order. Sam pulled the Impala into the parking lot of a small motel, sighing wearily as he stretched before turning off the engine and pulling the keys from the ignition. They had made it just outside Chicago, in Gary Illinois. The Impala's doors creaked as both he and Balthial climbed out of the vehicle. The angel lifted Sam's fairly weighty knapsack without hassle, holding it in one hand as they made for the entrance of the motel.

"Oh uh, I can take that," Sam offered, scratching his head rather awkwardly.

"It's no trouble," Balthial replied casually, even stopping to hold the door open for the young hunter.

This took Sam aback even further, though he did appreciate the common courtesy. "Thanks," he smiled, striding forward towards the check-in desk.

After receiving the key, Sam led Balthial back to their room instantly flopping down onto one of the provided beds. Balthial placed Sam's bag on the floor beside the bed, taking off his fedora and placing it on the nightstand. Then he, himself settled onto the other bed and let out a weary sigh. "So you sleep?" Sam questioned after a fairly peaceful moment of silence.

"On occasion," Balthial replied, allowing his eyelids to dip shut, "It has been a long time though, I confess."

Sam repositioned himself atop the mattress, propping his head against his hand. "You're really not like the other angels, are you?" Sam continued, his curiosity growing with every passing second.

Balthial turned his head to face the hunter, opening his eyes, "I don't understand."

At this point, Sam sat up fully from his resting position leaning on the very edge of his bed towards the angel. "I mean," he began, licking his lips delicately, "You act like one of us. Not like a, like a—,"

"Like a dick?" Balthial inquired, arching an eyebrow suspiciously.

Sam's eyes widened in amazement. "Exactly!" he exclaimed, nearly hopping out of his seat.

Balthial simply smiled to himself at the young Winchester's enthusiasm. Unhurriedly, the angel arose from the bed picking up his fedora in which to place upon his head once more. "Are you hungry?" he asked, switching topics. He would admit, a great deal of his siblings were rather arrogant towards the humans, but that did not mean he was about to bash them.

Sam cleared his throat, discussing nothing more of egotism of the many other angels in which he'd encountered. "Uh yeah, yeah," he replied awkwardly in response.

"Alright," Balthial murmured, smoothing out his clothes, "I shall return."

Sam quickly jumped up from his bed in protest, "Wait—," But before the young Winchester even finished his sentence, the angel was gone with a rush of air. Sam huffed, placing his hands on his hips in annoyance.

Balthial was not gone very long, however, perhaps only a half an hour. He returned just as swiftly as he'd left, bearing a brown sack of groceries in one arm. Gently, the angel placed the bag upon the table, removing its contents one after the other. "Whoa," Sam murmured under his breath, gazing upon fresh green and yellow peppers, tomatoes, parsley, and a large assortment of various herbs and spices.

"I hope that you enjoy traditional spaghetti," Balthial said, lifting a rectangular box of noodles and placing them on the table aside of everything else.

Sam beamed widely, "Well yeah. But you know you don't have to do all this, right Balthial?"

Balthial paused from his task, taking a moment to simply look at the hunter beside him. "I understand it's completely unnecessary," he sighed, "But I too am found of a well-cooked meal myself."

The two continued to stare at each other for a moment further, neither one daring to speak in which to break the silence. Finally Sam held one ripe tomato in his palm, examining it closely. "What can I do to help?" he asked, his voice barely grazing a whisper.

"Well," Balthial scratched his head, placing his hands on his hips, as he examined the layout presented before him, "You could start by dicing that tomato finely. That would be lovely."

Sam smiled, "Alright."

Balthial watched as the hunted retrieved a knife and began to slice the red vegetable (or fruit, whatever). He turned towards the other ingredients he had set aside. "Alright," he echoed, smiling to himself all the while.

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After the crowd of stocky demons had their fun beating Castiel around, Flaura enjoyed a bit of her own torment whipping and thrashing Dean about while still holding him against the wall. Dean mused that since Gaap was nowhere to be found, the troops were free to do as they pleased – and that meant bad news for both Dean and Castiel. At last, however, the group of Hell spawn decided the two had endured enough and left them in solitude once more.

Dean winced somewhat as he heaved himself up from the floor, bracing against the wall for support. He glanced down at his upper thigh, finding that a small amount of blood was beginning to seep through the denim – damn Flaura and stilettos! Cursing in small huffs under his breath, the hunter edged his way carefully over to Castiel ignoring the stinging pain in his leg as he knelt down towards the angel. "Cas," Dean murmured, feeling his heart wrench as he wiped a small droplet of blood from the angel's temple. Castiel stirred somewhat, still very much out of touch with reality. His eyelashes batted, giving way to the bright sapphire irises that Dean knew and loved. "Cas, Cas it's okay," Dean continued, patting Castiel's stubble-coated cheek lightly in hopes to awake the angel fully.

At last Castiel's eyes unglazed themselves, their depths looking bright with clarity once more. He attempted to move, shutting his eyes tightly as pain racked his body. Dean could see Cas's lips move quickly forming inaudible words. He leaned in closer towards the angel, he wanted to hear just what Castiel had to say. "I hate demons," Castiel repeated, this time his voice coming out more clearly.

Dean leaned away from him, chuckling somewhat at how nonchalant he was about the whole issue. "So," he cleared his throat awkwardly, "Do you feel as bad as you look?"

Castiel tried to move once more, gripping his left hand tightly as it throbbed. "I suppose you could say that," he muttered, holding his hand up to look upon it at eye level. He winced as he examined his dislocated middle finger – the middle knuckle was slashed open revealing the bone, blood slowly trickling down the angel's hand. Dean raised his eyebrows, whistling at just how bad he imagined the cut feeling. With that, he tore a loose amount of fabric from the bottom of his jeans in which to prepare some kind of half-assed bandage. "It's nothing," Castiel insisted, pulling his hand away quickly in resistance.

"That may be," Dean retorted, reaching out for Castiel's hand more firmly this time, "But it's my job to take care of you. Now let me see it." Castiel stared at the hunter suspiciously for a moment, giving his hand over without defiance. Dean caught his gaze, the two fixated on each for only the briefest of seconds. Without warning, the hunter grabbed the twisted finger, snapping it back into place. Castiel gasped out in pain, in which Dean quickly concealed by pulling the angel close. "Shh, shhh," he soothed, "That wasn't _so_ bad, was it?"

Castiel simply chuckled somewhat, making no verbal response as he leaned back against the wall once more. He watched as Dean continued onward with the bandaging of his finger, making the denim almost into a tourniquet. "Thank you," he murmured quietly, a slight grin pulling at the edges of his lips as he eyed the hunter.

"Yeah," Dean murmured, standing slowly before offering a hand to the angel, "Come on, let's get you up." Castiel gripped Dean's hand, using the wall for support also as the hunter hoisted him up. Slinging one of Castiel's arms over his shoulder, Dean helped to lead Cas over to the table in which he'd been placed upon previously. He groaned somewhat as he helped Castiel onto it, sighing wearily afterwards.

"Do you think they'll be back?" Castiel asked, his eyes full of distress and anxiousness as he spoke.

"Eventually," Dean cleared his throat, "Where's Gaap anyway?"

Castiel allowed his eyes to drift shut, letting out a long drawn sigh. He took a moment of silence to collect his thoughts before answering the hunter. "I have him contained for the time being," Castiel responded simply.

"Well that's a relief," Dean nodded, sort of avoiding Castiel's gaze.

Castiel nodded also, looking away from Dean. "Yeah," he agreed quietly.

Dean licked his lips delicately, "Cas—,"

"Must we have this discussion, Dean?" Castiel interrupted him, already knowing the topic of interest in which the hunter wished to pursue.

"I think we should," Dean retorted in surprise, "I mean, Gaap did say corrupting your innocence, or whatever, was gonna help the demons win somehow."

"I realize. I'm still awake and alive while he speaks, you do realize?" Castiel said, irritation rising steadily in his voice.

"_Anyway_," Dean sighed in exasperation, "Did you know?"

Castiel scoffed, folding his arms tightly across his chest, "What kind of question is that?"

"Tell me, did you know?" Dean repeated, his voice more commanding this time.

"Yes," Castiel admitted, looking away from Dean almost shamefully, "But it's not like you think."

Dean creased his brow in irritation, feeling a sudden heat beginning to flush in his cheeks as he leaned closer to the angel. "Enlighten me then, Cas. I mean, how could you possibly know and not tell us?" he spouted bitterly.

Castiel shut his eyes tightly, trying to keep his own anger down. "You must understand Dean, I did not have a choice. Had I told you, who knows what Gaap would've done," he muttered, trying his best to make the hunter comprehend his side of the argument, how he was feeling inside.

"Gaap wouldn't have done anything," Dean insisted, still persisting closer to the angel, "I mean, that's the whole point. It would've ruined everything!"

Castiel's eyes flashed open, turning his furious stare in which to impale Dean. "What would you have had me do then? I am trapped Dean, _trapped_. There's no escape and there's no way out – Gaap is in my head," Castiel had snapped angrily, leaning in so close to Dean that their faces were now mere inches from each other.

Dean's expression softened somewhat, blinking vigorously now taking to heart just what Castiel had said. He could scarcely imagine what it might be like for him, the intense feeling of having no way out. "Cas, I'm sorry," he murmured quietly, still holding the angel's stare.

Castiel sighed breaking eye contact with Dean. "I can't expect you to understand," he said, his voice barely grazing a whisper as he looked down at his hands which were folded neatly in his lap.

Without even thinking really, Dean found himself lifting a hand in which to hold Castiel's cheek. The light coating of stubble felt strange and prickly beneath his touch, though he liked it. Tilting Castiel's head up, he gazed into the angel's ocean deep eyes once more searching in desperation. He murmured, "Then help me to."

With that, Castiel could hold off no longer – he leaned in ever slightly, closing the distance between he and Dean at long last. Dean inhaled deeply, feeling his heart begin to pick up the pace within his chest. The blood within his veins felt like it was on fire, coursing through him with a burning sensation. The hunter lifted both his hands to his angel's head, running his hands playfully through Castiel's dark ruffles of hair. A low moan arose in Castiel's throat as he himself wrapped his arms around Dean's back in which to pull him closer. The angel spread his legs, allowing more room for Dean to fit snuggly in front of him, feeling enriched as the hunter's tongue entered into his mouth.

Little did either one of them know, however, across the room both Aamon and Kimaris clung in the metal doorway watching their every move. "Looks at those two," Aamon exclaimed, "Feeling each other up and shit."

Kimaris chuckled somewhat, licking her lips delicately, "Oh don't even lie Aamon, I know it turns you on."

"What are you two perverts looking at?"Flaura suddenly echoed from behind them.

"Shh!" Aamon hissed, glaring at Flaura as she too entered the doorway in which to sneak a peek.

Arching her eyebrows in surprise, a wide beam came across Flaura's face. "Well, well, well," she murmured.

Kimaris elbowed her lightly, a devilish grin spread across her own lips, "I know, right?"

Aamon twisted his head swiftly from side to side, a satisfying crack emulating with each movement. "It won't be long now," he mused, "Not long at all."

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After a seemingly quick preparation of the spaghetti, both Sam and Balthial cracked open a bottle of red wine and sat down to enjoy their mouthwatering dish. At first the conversation was lively, angel and hunter discussing common interests of food and such, but as the evening drug on and the wine became depleted silence clung thick in the air.

"What's troubling you?" Balthial asked, pouring the last remnants of alcohol into his glass.

Sam sighed, "I just, I feel kinda guilty while Dean's still out there."

"Perhaps he is dead already," Balthial mused, rolling a spaghetti strand lightly with his fork.

Sam's brow creased as he turned to stare at the angel. "Not to make stereotypes here," he cleared his throat leaning closer towards Balthial somewhat, "But shouldn't you be the giving me hope?"

Balthial rubbed his eyes in exasperation, prior to laying his head in his hands. "I realize you would suspect such circumstances, Sam, but I'm afraid I cannot make that so," Balthial said, never directing his gaze upward, "I honestly don't know what is to happen next. You must understand, Castiel is my brother and he may be dead as well. It's just a reality we have to accept."

Sam said nothing for a moment, his gaze focused intently on his hands which were folded in front of him atop the table. He debated his answer silently to himself, twiddling his thumbs in a slow circular motion. "I guess you're right," he mumbled after a long drawn pause.

Suddenly the hunter found Balthial's hand up his arm, just above his wrist. "That is not to say you should give up hope," the angel urged, "Where there is light, hope will always conquer. And you, yourself are a light Sam. You must be strong, stronger than you ever imagined you could be. Especially now."

Sam lifted his eyes to look upon Balthial's – they shimmered with radiance even in such dim lighting. Sam admired the angel's courage, not many would be willing to say such things. And so freely too. The young hunter nodded slowly, a light smile pulling at the edges of his lips, "Thanks Balthial, really."

Balthial removed his hand from Sam's arm, almost in a rushed, manner, and Sam missed the warm connection almost instantly. "You're quite welcome," the angel cleared his throat, breaking their stare.

"What is it?" Sam asked, finding himself drawn even closer to the angel than before.

At this movement, Balthial pushed his chair out abruptly rising from the table. "I think it's best for me to distance myself from you," he began hesitantly, "I should limit my bonds, for this embodiment is only temporary."

"That doesn't mean you shouldn't form relationships," Sam scoffed, not understanding why Balthial seemed so uptight and defensive all of a sudden.

Balthial let out a deep sigh, removing his fedora for a moment in which to run a hand through his hair. "Relationships lead to attachment," he stated simply, turning away from Sam hastily. Somehow being under the human's gaze made his stomach lurch, an unnerving wave washing over him.

Sam stood up himself, taking a step closer to the angel. He asked innocently, "And what's so wrong about that? I mean, what's the risk?"

Balthial's entire body tensed as he could feel Sam's presence just behind him. The angel instinctively shuddered, feeling the hunter's sturdy hand suddenly upon his shoulder. He swallowed hard, allowing his eyelids to dip shut for even the briefest of moments. Balthial stuttered, his voice betraying him as he tried to speak, "I just don't think it's, that it's uh wise, to risk. To risk—,"

"Yes?" Sam urged breathlessly.

"To risk this," the angel finished, turning his head in which to glance over his shoulder at the young Winchester once more.

Sam inched even closer, turning the angel lightly by the shoulder so that Balthial would be facing him yet again. "Risk what?" the hunter muttered seductively.

Balthial's eyes shifted almost constantly as he searched Sam's eyes, which were so close to his own. "To risk feeling intimate emotions towards you," he finally stated, sounding typically robotic yet angelic.

"I don't know about you," Sam cleared his throat, licking his lips, "but that's a risk _I'm_ willing to take." On that note, Sam leaned in to join he and Balthial's lips. An unexpected, almost electric, jolt coursed through the hunter starting at his mouth and spreading to every corner of his body. He felt some kind of blinding heat washing over him, renewing and refreshing as it flowed along. So this was the perks of loving an angel, eh?

Balthial, meanwhile, felt corrupted as he returned the affection Sam Winchester offered. He knew of Sam's past relationship with the demon, Ruby. How she twisted and worked him like a puppet on a string. Balthial felt as though a thick string of venom had just been poured into his mouth, slowly trailing down his throat in which to poison the rest of his human vessel. Still, despite all the negativity that flourished through him in this moment, Balthial didn't want it to stop. He'd never known such disgust and repeal, and he longed and lusted for the hunter.

Still, Balthial found himself jerking away from Sam abruptly panting wildly as his heart continued to pound against his ribs. "I don't wish to stray from my mission," he said, his voice barely above a whisper.

"But?" Sam questioned, feeling that there was more the angel wanted to say.

"But I don't wish to stray from you, either," Balthial replied pressing his forehead against Sam's, feeling the dampness of their skin fuse.

Sam sighed, "Then don't." He placed yet another damp kiss onto the angel's mouth, driving Balthial further and further until the pair bumped into the nearby wall. This time the angel did not hesitate as he wrapped his arms around Sam, pulling ever closer. Both Sam and Balthial continued their lustful passions, something Sam had never imagined even in his wildest dreams. He was a bad boy, and bad boys didn't deserve angels. Apparently though this angel liked bad boys, and Sam wasn't about to make any protests to this angel's preferences.

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Dean gasped loudly, throwing his head back as he felt Castiel's lips beginning to trail down his damp neck. The angel's stubble-coated lips tickled the skin of this throat, making his insides tingle in anticipation. He felt Castiel's strong hands flourish over his shoulders, making for the duo of buttons towards the collar of his shirt. Dean grasped the angel's hands, however, just as they were about to pop open the top one.

"Cas, is this what you want?" he murmured, locking gazes with the angel once more.

Something was different about Castiel's eyes. They appeared darker, like Gaap's when it was he who dwelled on the surface, but not quite the same. It was like a new mixture had been added to his genetics, lustful with desire. Castiel nodded slowly, murmuring, "Yes Dean." With that, Dean dove hungrily into Castiel's plump lips once more combining them vigorously. With swift hands he helped to glide Castiel's trench coat from his shoulders, followed soon by various other articles of clothing.

Flaura snickered to herself, shushing both Aamon and Kimaris back inside the room in which to close the door before her. "Way to ruin it, Flaura! Just when it was getting good," Kimaris teased, her face positively glowing with delight.

Aamon closed the bolt of the door, leaning against its steady frame very pleased himself. "Looks like we better get crackin' on this ritual," he said eagerly, "His arrival is mandatory."

Flaura sighed contently, her eyes glazed as if she were off in some distant land. "Lucifer," she whispered with glee.

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**Author's Note: **So I hope this chapter was totally worth the wait. Sorry it jumps around so much, but I thought it only fair that Sam gets a little extracurricular activities in there too, hehe. Please let me know what you think, I'm pretty tired at this hour in the morning and I hope I didn't make anybody too out of character towards the end here. Ah well, c'est la vie.

Anyhow, hope you all enjoyed. I'll be sure to update this a lot faster than before. Thanks for reading!


	10. Mind Games

**Disclaimer:** I own nothing, Supernatural belongs to Eric Kripke and large television corporations such as the CW. Any and all of the following is completely fictional and fan-made.

**Author's Note:** Alright, so I wrote about two pages worth of this chapter before I said to myself, "You know what? I don't want this to happen yet." And so, on that note, I deleted all the work I had strived towards. Fail haha.

Anyhow, for those of you who are enjoying the Sam and Balthial pairing we will see their relationship continue to blossom in a little bit more depth here. I'm so glad you've been as accepting as you have of him, that makes me very happy haha. Enough of me though, let's get on with the story!

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**Chapter Ten**

The group of demons all crowded around the center point of the room in which they had taken up living in for the time being. Flaura stood in the center, Aamon and Kimaris just slightly off to the side. Across from Flaura, there sat a man who was bound to a wooden chair. He was middle aged, both his wrists and ankles bloody and ragged from his attempts to break free from the ropes which held him in place.

Flaura took a leisurely step forward, smiling sadistically as she placed a hand lightly upon the man's shoulder. He physically trembled at her touch, locking gazes with her black dead stare. "It's okay," she murmured smugly, running a hand roughly through his hair, "The needs of the many outweigh the needs of the few."

The man just looked up at her, swallowing hard as his stomach continued to tie itself in knots. "What kind of sick people are you?" he spat, fear evident in his voice.

"But that's just it," Flaura retorted, leaning in close to the man's face, "We're not people at all." With this, she simply blinked turning her eyes pitch black. Almost as if on cue, all others mimicked the same action, shiny coal eyes all focused on their terrified captive. Flaura turned away smiling, pulling a long dagger from the inner pocket of her jacket. The man's breath increased, as if preparing for a scream. With one swift turn, however Flaura plunged the dagger into the center of the man's throat watching in delight as a thick trail of crimson began to pour from the fresh wound. Aamon quickly handed her a marble goblet in which she placed until the quickly seeping injury and collected a fair amount of the poor man's blood.

Flaura's heels clicked on the cement of the floor as she stepped away from wear the man sat and over to a carefully drawn symbol upon the floor. Raising a single hand upward she titled the chalice to the side, watching almost in awe as the crimson river spilt out of its confinements. The blood made a loud trickling sound as it splattered against the floor, its droplets spread out at first quickly absorbing together into one large puddle. Flaura took a step back, her eyes lighting up as white began to emulate from the center of the blood. It grew brighter and brighter with each passing second, until it shown over all the crowd. There came a sudden blast which shook the very foundations of the warehouse, and then all was still.

Flaura lowered the arm she had held up in which to shield her face, beaming wildly at the sight of who stood before her. Taking one step forward she allowed the cup to fall carelessly to the ground before whispering, "Oh Lucifer."

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Neither Sam nor Balthial could sleep very well and so they had decided to pick up and continue back on the road extremely early into the morning. Last night had been _unexpected_. The way Balthial had kissed Sam so tenderly, something in which the hunter hadn't experienced in quite a long time. The angel did more than just to satisfy his intimate desire to kiss, Balthial's kiss somehow renewed him. Made him feel stronger and, most importantly, gave Sam a new sense of hope.

Sam was only glad that he had decided to stop before things went too far. Balthial was angel after all, and as much as he would love to get in on with him, Sam refrained. Balthial had thanked him too. "It's not quite time," Balthial had whispered so serenely into Sam's ear, damp with sweat. And so hunter and angel just lay in a content embrace, murmuring sweet nothings to one another as the hours ticked on so carelessly.

But now the sun was beginning to peak over the brim of the sky, a light green strip tinting the horizon. Sam let out a weary sigh, pinching the brim of his nose as he tried his best to focus on the blurring lines of the road. "You're exhausted," Balthial mused simply, "Pull over."

"I'm fine," Sam lied, gripping the steering wheel so tight that his knuckles were beginning to turn white.

"My vessel is an experienced driver," Balthial insisted, "Allow me to drive."

Sam really couldn't argue with the angel's request. To be quite honest, the hunter wasn't sure of how much longer he'd been able to keep his eyes open. Promptly he turned the steering wheel, bringing the Impala to the shoulder of the deserted road. He sighed softly to himself once more, stepping out of the driver's door with a loud creek. Balthial too climbed out of the passenger's seat, making for the trunk rather than hopping back in right away. "What are you doing?" Sam muttered, barely able to keep his eyes open.

Balthial took a few shirts from Sam's bag, stuffing them inside what appeared to be a pillow case. Since when did Dean keep pillow cases in the trunk? Anyhow, fluffing the half-assed pillow somewhat Balthial handed it to Sam with a slight smile. Their hands brushed for the briefest of moments, Sam swearing he could see a slight color flush to the angel's cheeks. "It will do you good," Balthial said simply, turning quickly to get back inside the idling vehicle.

Sam too made it to the other side of the car, silently slipping inside. Almost immediately, Balthial put the Impala in drive and pressed on the gas pedal. A little jerky at first, he quickly regained control of the car like a pro. He was right, his vessel obviously wasn't too bad. "So how did you know he was good at driving?" Sam cleared his throat, his voice hushed as he spoke.

"When Eric was twelve, his uncle would take him driving in a beat up '86 Volkswagen Cabriolet on back roads. His first car was in fact the same Cabriolet," Balthial explained, keeping his eyes focused intently on the road.

Sam said nothing for a moment, blinking vigorously in attempts to stay awake. He wanted to hear all that Balthial had to tell, for the angel's voice was soothing. "Eric is your vessel's name?" he inquired.

"Yes," Balthial said simply, "No more talking for now, you should rest."

Sam chuckled somewhat, "I was never much of a car sleeper anyway."

Balthial glanced over at him. "Perhaps I can assist with that then," he murmured. Before Sam even had a chance to question the angel's motives, Balthial raised to fingers and placed them lightly upon the hunter's forehead. Sam was out like a light, which really didn't take much at this point. Balthial then leaned in and placed a delicate kiss atop the crown of Sam's head amidst his thick locks. "Sleep well," he whispered, his voice barely audible.

And so, the angel continued to drive steadily along, pushing the Impala just a few miles over the speed limit. Time was precious to Balthial, for he wasn't sure how much longer it would be until the demons completed the next portion of their sadistic. As much as he wanted to tell Sam, to let him know he already understood just what the other side had in store for Dean, he couldn't. It wasn't because of stupid orders, or because he would be in fear for his life if indeed he did, no – it was because he was trying to protect Sam, his now love. If he told Sam the reality of the situation, the hunter would surely go berserk and Balthial just couldn't risk Sam being all panic and flustered. The boy needed to focus especially now. All this weighing on his heart, Balthial couldn't help but let out a shaky sigh. Somehow, the silence surrounding him seemed extremely unsettling all of a sudden.

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Dean laid flat on his back against the table, the chilled metal sending shivers through his skin. Both he and Castiel were stripped down to their bare chests, only pants separating them now. Dean panted heavily as Castiel kissed his neck, slowly working his way down towards the hunter's collarbone. Dean grasped the table with sweaty fingers, feeling a desperate and needy sensation beginning to build within the pit of his stomach.

Castiel's hands felt bizarre, almost unfamiliar, as the angel roamed where he would lustfully upon Dean's flesh. Swallowing hard, Dean managed the courage to speak despite this completely awing moment. "Cas," he muttered, clearing his throat, "Cas."

"Yes Dean," Castiel responded almost nonchalantly.

Dean said nothing further for a moment, before regaining his voice once more. "We shouldn't do this," he stammered.

Castiel paused but just a moment, locking glimpses with Dean for a split second. He whispered, "But you said—,"

"I know what I said," Dean interrupted him, pushing the angel away slightly, "But remember what Gaap said? This is just one step closer to them winning, Cas."

"Dean, it's okay," Castiel soothed, placing a hand delicately upon Dean's cheek.

Dean shook his head, frowning as he said, "No Cas, it really isn't." With that, he cast his eyes down towards the ground almost in shame.

Castiel grasped Dean forcefully by the jaw now, forcing the hunter to look him in the eye. "Dean," he insisted, his tone dark and suspicious, "It is. Trust me." As Dean gazed into his so-called lover's eyes, he could feel an overwhelming sensation beginning to wrap its fingers around him, seemingly constricting the life from him. Free will, thought, choice were all gone in an instant.

Dean blinked vigorously, coming suddenly out of whatever spell had been cast upon him. "No," he growled, forcing Castiel away from him almost violently, "You're not Cas."

"Oh really?" Cas mocked, arching an eyebrow.

"You're Gaap," Dean spat in disgust.

"Fine, fine, I give up," who was now apparently Gaap confessed, "But you have to admit, I had you on a long roll there."

"Where the Hell was Cas through all this?" Dean demanded hopping abruptly from the table.

"Oh he was here, somewhere," Gaap mused, beginning to circle Dean ever slowly, "Truth be told he was enjoying all this. And that little consent, that was all him I might add."

Dean hissed, "Bullshit."

"Honest to God, or whatever," Gaap scuffed, raising his right hand in symbolism, "I mean, come on Dean, why would I lie?"

"Oh I dunno, maybe cause you're a _demon_," Dean retorted bitterly.

Gaap sighed, placing both hands on his hips. "That may be true, but why would I lie about this specifically. Don't forget there, Dean, it takes two to tango," Gaap retorted.

Dean shook his head, clenching his fists as he took a few heated step towards Gaap. He grumbled, "I've had about enough of you—,"

"Ah, ah, ah," Gaap scolded, defensively raising his hands as he backed off, "It's not just me you're hurting. Don't wanna damage Castiel's beautiful face, now do we? Think Dean, use that noggin of yours. I said that Castiel's innocence, his virginity, must be taken in order for this whole shindig to go down."

"And?" Dean huffed impatiently.

"_And_, it's gotta be consensual. Castiel must willingly agree to make love to you, get it? That was all him," Gaap beamed almost proudly.

Dean stared at the demon in disbelief. Castiel would never consent to anything like this – it was impossible. The hunter stumbled on his words, the syllables seemingly getting caught up in his throat before they were even formed, "But why, why would he—,"

"I know," Gaap sighed wistfully, "How awful, how dreadful. How could an angel stoop to such a low level? You would be surprised where a few mind games will get someone, Dean. Just a little twist of reality, shaking of the foundation, and people fall apart faster than a crummy muffin."

"I'd like to twist your mind around," Dean mumbled under his breath, so longing to choke the life out of the demon. Longing to choke the demon out of Castiel so that the angel, _his_ angel could once again be free.

Gaap opened his mouth as if about to speak once more, when the side door opened once more. Flaura stepped through the archway, her brow furrowed unhappily. "What's going on here?" she asked innocently.

"You can drop the act," Dean griped, folding his arms tightly over his chest.

Gaap rolled his eyes, sighing impatiently at Dean's attitude. "He knows," the demon clarified simply.

Flaura snorted, striding across the room towards the two. "Nice going," she spat sarcastically at Gaap.

"Don't blame me," Gaap retorted defensively, "I'd like to see you do any better at portraying a freaking angel."

"Children, children," a voice suddenly echoed from the corner. Chills ran up Dean's spine – he recognized this voice. Turning slowly to peer over his shoulder, Dean could see none other than Lucifer himself making his way over towards the group. Both Flaura and Gaap immediately took a step back, granting their master entrance into the little circle they'd established. "It's good to see you again, Dean," Lucifer said, his expression blank.

Dean said nothing, simply gritting his teeth as he stood tensely rooted to the floor. What kind of catch phrase was he supposed to come up with against the devil? Especially one that wouldn't result in immediate smiting. "How'd you find me?" Dean asked in a low tone, avoiding Lucifer's piercing gaze.

Lucifer looked to his left, eyeing Gaap up and down. "Castiel did well carving you and your brother's ribs," he began, taking yet another step towards Dean, "But there's nothing rituals can't accomplish. Especially when you have a group of demons summoning me."

Dean swallowed hard, finally gathering the courage to look Lucifer in the eye – that was a mistake. Almost as soon as he had caught a glimpse into those abyss-like holes, he could see hellfire. It was like a gateway to the other side, and it frightened Dean. Frightened him beyond belief. "Dean here was just about to perform a little ritual of his own with our dear angel," Flaura interrupted Dean's thoughts, taking a leisurely step towards her master.

Dean looked quizzically at her, watching as Flaura placed her hand almost lovingly upon Lucifer's shoulder. Lucifer, in turn, grasped her hand in his own before turning to place a soft kiss to her forehead. A wide beam spread across Flaura's lips as she wrapped her arms around him and drew Lucifer closer. He simply stroked her fire red hair, his fingertips gliding over each and every strand. "You two?" Dean asked, disgust evident in his tone. His stomach lurched simply at the thought of them being a pair.

"You have yours and I have mine," Flaura declared simply, glaring hatefully at Dean as she leaned her head upon Lucifer's chest.

Lucifer patted her lightly on the back, catching her gaze before departing to look at Dean. "I know who you are, Dean," he began, his voice calm and almost soothing like flowing waters, "I know what you're feeling, how you're broken on the inside."

"Oh really?" Dean questioned smugly, not willing to by the devil's bullshit for an instant.

"Yes," Lucifer insisted, daring to place a hand upon Dean's shoulder, "Which is exactly why you know what this is going to come down to. You know you're going to be my vessel, Dean."

Dean could feel his heart jump to his throat, his legs beginning to wobble even the slightest. "Is that the same speech you gave Sam?" he sneered.

Lucifer removed his hand, sighing wearily at Dean. "No, I didn't have to. Your brother already knows who he is, what he's capable of. It's time for you to figure that out now Dean," Lucifer retorted simply. With a snap of his fingers, he turned back towards the doorway of the room with Flaura and Gaap following obediently behind him.

Gaap paused just before passing through the archway. "Things could be a whole lot simpler Dean," was all he said before closing the door tightly behind him.

As soon as they had disappeared from you, Dean let go. He let go of the strength he'd been using to stand, just allowing his body to collapse down upon the concrete below. He folded his legs up towards his chest, resting his elbows upon. His hands acted like a cradle for his head, in which he sighed so defeatedly. This isolation, this lonely whole that just seemed to build and build within him, it was beginning to become just a little bit more than Dean could stand. What other alternative did he have, honestly? Who's to say Sam was on his trail, that he was on his way to find him? And Lord only knows how long the demons would be willing to keep him hear before their patience grew thin. In the back of his mind, Dean knew it would either come to him or Sammy saying yes he just never dreamt the tables would be turned and Lucifer would want to ride in his skin.

"He looks so lonely," Flaura commented as she peered out the tiny peek shaft towards the top of the door.

"I thought that was kind of the point," Gaap retorted, picking nonchalantly at his fingernails.

"It is," Lucifer declared sternly, "He's close to breaking."

Flaura closed the tiny peep space, turning to face her master. Leaning against the door's bulky frame she asked, "What about Sam?"

"Sam, Sam, Sam," Lucifer sighed, "Sam is not what I expected him to be."

"And Dean is?" Gaap questioned, now leaning forward somewhat on his seat.

Lucifer gazed upon the demon with simply vicious eyes. "He _could_ be," he mused thoughtfully.

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**Author's Note: **So I know this chapter took _forever_ for me to release but I wanted to wrap another fiction and such. I do apologize for the delay, as well as this chapter being shorter than usual. Next chapter should be a bit more bubbling, but in the mean time I hope this satisfies you. Like most evil characters, Lucifer is an interesting write. Not that I like the devil per say, but I like his mannerisms. I don't know. Just don't go taking me for a Satanist now haha.

Anyhow, thanks for reading and I'll be sure to update soon! ^_^


	11. Craving

**Disclaimer:** I own nothing, Supernatural belongs to Eric Kripke and large television corporations such as the CW. Any and all of the following is completely fictional and fan-made.

**Author's Note:** Hello, so I am back with yet another chapter! I don't want to give too much away, but I really hope you enjoy this chapter. Let me put it to you this way, the climax is building and soon we'll be coming to our conclusion… whatever that may be xD

Well, don't let me bore you any further. Sit back and relax!

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**Chapter Eleven**

The remaining journey to Fond du Lac was a rather short one, in which Balthial found very easy to drive. Basically, the angel just drove the Impala onward northwest for give or take three hours and reached the destination without a hassle. Pulling into a small and homey motel, Balthial turned off the engine, pulling the keys out of the ignition. He let out a deep sigh glancing over towards the hunter who slept beside him. Sam was a surprisingly noisy sleeper in his opinion. Every so often the boy would stir making small grumbling noises or soft moans, and otherwise he snored like it was no one's business. Somehow Balthial had managed to tune it out about midway through, concentrating instead on the strong pumping of Sam's heart. That was yet another perk about being an angel – supersonic hearing abilities. A lighthearted grin pulled at his lips as Balthial lifted a hand to gently brush a loose strand of hair from Sam's forehead, gliding over the skin with the most gentle of touches. And now came the fun part – wrapping his arms around Sam's neck and beneath his legs, Balthial managed to have the overgrown hunter securely in his arms before concentrating on teleporting them both to a vacant motel room.

Heaving somewhat, Balthial spread Sam out onto one of the beds, slipping off the hunter's shoes before properly tucking him in. He pulled the bed covers up to about Sam's shoulders, lovingly fluffing the pillows as to which support his head. Balthial then proceeded out of the room, being sure to lock it so that no one would find the sleeping sasquatch. Without even thinking, Balthial teleported just outside the hotel, walking in through the front door for appearance's sake. "Hello there," the clerk greeted pleasantly.

"Hi, I'd like a room. Double, if you will, I'm expecting company later," Balthial replied promptly.

"Alrighty, just sign here please," the clerk asked, sliding a small guest book in front of the angel on the counter.

Balthial glanced awkwardly at it for a moment, lifting the pen into his left hand – somehow it just felt natural though he'd never written before. "Um, room twenty-seven if at all possible," Balthial cleared his throat. When the clerk threw him a strange look, he clarified, "It's my lucky number."

"Oh," the clerk smiled, laughing somewhat as she removed the key from its place amongst the others. Putting it lightly in the palm of Balthial's hand, they then looked downward where the angel had managed to write an actually very neat signature. "B-Balthial is it?"

"Yes," Balthial replied simply.

"Well then, Balthial, I hope you enjoy your stay here," they said, still smiling happily, "Gotta hand it to you though, you got quite the last name. My grandpop taught me how to shoot a Winchester rifle growing up."

Balthial nodded courteously, smiling mischievously to himself as he strode down the hall. _Balthial Winchester _– it certainly had a nice ring to it. Closing the door lightly, the angel let out a soft sigh as he watched Sam still sleep peacefully. Removing his fedora, he placed it on the small table which sat to the side, scratching his head lightly. Just then Sam stirred, his eyelids fluttering open. "Hey," he muttered softly, smiling as he saw Balthial standing across the room from him.

"Hello Sam," Balthial replied, taking a few steps closer to the hunters bedside.

"Ugh, what time is it?" Sam yawned as he stretched his arms out.

"Don't worry, it's still early. You can rest," Balthial assured him.

The angel was just about to turn away when Sam caught his wrist gently. "Hey," he murmured, "Stay. Please."

Balthial did as his lover requested, curling up on the rather small bed beside Sam. The hunter clung almost like a child would to its mother, fitting his head snuggly in the space just beneath Balthial's chin. Balthial, meanwhile, curled his arms up Sam's back towards his shoulder blades. Lightly he placed a kiss atop the crown of Sam's head, resting his cheek atop Sam's hair. He soothed, "Rest Sam, rest. There will be plenty of time to face the day, you shall see."

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Dean had been doing his best to rest peacefully for the duration of his time in solitude. Ever since Lucifer had dropped the bomb on him, he'd been on constant edge not being able to close his eyes for too fearing that when he opened them he would no longer be himself. Like he would wake up as the devil himself. Maybe this is how Sam felt this time. Maybe the reason he was so secretive, so defensive, so _protective_ was because of what he had to hide inside. And in this moment, Dean felt sorry for the kid. He'd always had the say-so over him and now he regretted cracking on poor Sammy sometimes.

A loud crash brought him back to reality though as Flaura came bursting through the doorway and made boldly for him. Dean was quickly on his feet, somehow feeling that an ass-whooping was in order. Flaura sighed a little louder than necessary, glaring at the hunter viciously. "Whoa, slow it down there skippy," Dean muttered, tensing his muscles in which to embrace what was to come.

"Oh I really don't have time for this shit," Flaura almost growled, socking Dean in the jaw. She hit him harder than Dean had been expecting and so the hunter nearly toppled over. Flaura reacted quickly, grabbing both his arms and forcing them behind his back as though she were some kind of police officer.

Almost to keep her in character, the demon whipped out a pair of handcuffs snapping them quickly around Dean's wrists. "Handcuffs, really Flaura?" Dean chuckled, wriggling his eyebrows in amusement.

"Shut up, just shut up," Flaura hissed, bringing him upright and forcing him in the direction of the door.

"Jeeze, what crawled up your butt and died?" Dean retorted, frowning as the demon continued to push him onward. "Where the Hell are you taking me?"

With that, Dean tried to resist and slide backwards, making the task even more difficult. Flaura lifted a leg and drove one of her heels into the tender spot just behind Dean's knee which of course made the hunter falter. "Damn angels always poking into our business," she grumbled, nearly dragging him across the floor now.

"Lucifer's an angel, you know," Dean mused, trying so hard not to show just how much pain her kick had caused him. Was he bleeding?

"You're really pushing it, you know that Dean," Flaura shook her head, forcing upright once more as he lead him through the doorway. Dean glanced around vigorously, for he'd never been in this part of the warehouse yet. His eyes widened in awe as he saw all the other demons besides Flaura, Aamon, and Kimaris had been killed. Their hosts corpses lay piled one next to each other and a foul stench was beginning to conjure in the air. "Move!" Flaura commanded, punching him roughly in his shoulder blade.

"Just take it easy!" Dean hollered, jerking in front of her, "Now tell me just where the fuck we're going and I'll walk!"

Flaura huffed in irritance, crossing her arms tightly over her chest. "_Fine_," she replied, though she made sure her tone told him that she was still pissed, "We have to transfer you. Your damn brother and some angel are close, really close."

"An angel? Who?" Dean demanded.

"Hell if I should know! Now come on, before I kick your ass again," Flaura threatened, jerking him forward by the arm.

This time Dean walked a bit more willing, still tripping or being forced along from time to time. "Sammy," he mumbled under his breath, feeling butterflies in the pit of his stomach. What if this was all a trap? What if Lucifer wanted Sam to come? What if this was really how it was all supposed to end. Flaura looked around almost sneakily as they came to a back door, before busting it open. Dean looked up at the indigo sky, sighing almost blissfully. It had been such a time since he'd been outside – he'd actually lost recognition of whether it was day or night inside that shithole. Eyeing a rusty looking van in front of him, Dean halted in his tracks. "I'm not getting into that," he protested.

"Oh yes you are," Flaura retorted attempting to make him budge from behind, "Come on, move damn it!"

Dean stood firmly planted, feeling almost triumphant before another voice echoed. "Get a move on there, Dean," Aamon said forcefully, sliding the van door open, "Your love awaits."

Dean growled at the demon's sarcasm, looking just inside the door to see Castiel. This time he was sure it was Castiel, there was no mistaking it. It was almost as if his wings were sticking out the back of his trench coat, it was that obvious. "Cas," Dean gasped, lunging forward into the vehicle.

Aamon smiled devilishly, sliding the door shut once more before making for the driver's side. "See how easy that was?" he taunted Flaura as she too made for the van.

"Prick," she huffed, getting in with a bitchface expression plastered on her face.

"Oh, no need to thank me," Aamon continued, "You just gotta know the right meat to bait the trap with."

Flaura let out a deep sigh, turning to face out the window. "Just drive," she commanded.

Aamon chuckled as he placed the key into the ignition and started the engine. Dean meanwhile leaned in close to Castiel's face. He longed so badly to touch his beloved angel. "Cas, Cas it's really you," he murmured.

"Yes, Dean. I'm here," Castiel replied solemnly. His blue eyes were cloudy, and he just looked overall depressed. Dean could feel his heart wrench as he eyed a trail of crimson blood which was caked to the side of the angel's head – they really must've given him the beating of his life.

"Cas, I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry," Dean said, waiting beside the angel breathlessly. Waiting for him to react, to say something spiteful, or even just to look him in the eye. But instead Castiel did nothing which was even worse.

There was an awkward silence between the two before Castiel conjured the courage in which to speak. "You have nothing to apologize for, Dean," Castiel said at last, "I'm the one who should be sorry."

"What? There's no way you could've known what was gonna happen," Dean protest, wriggling his arms somewhat in attempt to break free of the wretched handcuffs.

"But I did know," Castiel retorted, turning his face to look Dean dead in the eye, "I knew from the moment Gaap and I had conspired in that alleyway that something was bound to go wrong. I knew from that moment that I was possessed but I didn't speak out because I was afraid. Because I am a coward." On that note, Castiel turned away from his hunter as if to hide his face in shame.

"Cas look at me," Dean pleaded, his voice turning stern very quickly, "I said look at me. You are not a coward, you got that? You're a freaking angel of the Lord. Gripped tight and raised from perdition, remember?"

"I might as well be a demon myself, lost in perdition, with the way I've been thinking," Castiel confessed, holding Dean's stare intensely.

Dean looked as though her were about to speak, leaning in even closer when Flaura suddenly spoke out, "Confuto!" _(silence!)_ Immediately both Dean and Castiel's throats felt tight, the two of them hunching over in pain.

"Flaura, you don't need to get pissed just cause good ol' Lucy isn't in the mood to play," Aamon teased, keeping his eyes focused on the road.

Dean watched in surprise as Flaura's eyes almost lit up with devilish red as she spat out curses to her partner in crime. "Intereo, vos fossor!" _(die, you fool!)_ she hollered, flashing her hand at him as she cast her wicked spell. Aamon clutched the steering wheel out of agony now, coughing and sputtering. A few tiny droplets of blood plastered themselves onto the dashboard as he hacked away.

"F-Flauros," Aamon sputtered, Please."

Flaura gritted her teeth, hesitating before releasing whatever death hold she had placed upon all three of them. Dean and Castiel both gasped vigorously for breath, Aamon just concentrating on trying to drive as he continued to cough. Castiel placed his hands firmly upon Dean's shoulders, just as soon as he was able to catch his breath. Leaning in close to his hunter's ear, he whispered, "It's become my job to protect you, Dean Winchester. I just wish I could've done better at it."

Dean looked as though he were about to protest the angel's statement, but Castiel quickly lifted a hand pressing two fingers to Dean's forehead. Yep, that was definitely Castiel – no way Gaap would be able to pull that shit and get away with it.

Meanwhile in the front seat, Aamon continued to choke and sputter, clearing his throat periodically. "That should serve as a lesson to you," Flaura grinned wickedly.

"You know, it's amazing how much I hate you sometimes," Aamon grumbled, his voice coming out scratchy as his throat had become very dry. Flaura just continued to smile cynically to herself.

Glancing in the rear view mirror, Flaura noticed that Dean had been knocked out. "Hey, pretty boy," she muttered, turning around in her seat to face Castiel, "What did you do to the Winchester?"

Castiel swallowed hard, debating his answer silently to himself. "I caused him to sleep," Castiel cleared his throat simply, "To keep from arguing."

Thankfully, Flaura seemed satisfied with that response and turned back to face the front without another word. Castiel sighed, watching out the window as black was finally dominating the sky as night crept over the land. He had no clue where they were going, but they were speeding that much was certain. _This was going to be a long ride…._

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Sam had slept longer than he really wanted to, but there was no use pondering over it. Both he and Balthial had spent the remainder of the evening asking around town and piecing everything together bit by bit until they had come to the conclusion of Dean's location. Sam was thankful whereas Balthial just seemed ecstatic. Sam never thought he'd live to see the day when an angel would smile as wide as Balthial was. "Oh Sam, this is wonderful!" Balthial exclaimed, pulling his lover closer in which to place a tender kiss upon his lips.

Sam returned the kiss equally, pulling away ever slightly just to gaze upon his lovely angel. "Dude, are you alright?" he asked, furrowing his brow in confusion.

"Sam, you don't understand? This is great news," Balthial enthused, gripping Sam tightly by the forearms, "We can get to Dean in time!"

Sam frowned somewhat, "In time for what?"

Balthial blinked vigorously, remaining silent for a moment realizing the reality of the situation – he hadn't explained to Sam the full story. _Shit…._ "Uh, in time so that nothing bad could happen," Balthial replied hastily.

Luckily it was a good enough cover because Sam bought it. Hell, he ate it up like chocolate freaking cake. And Balthial couldn't help but bite his lip at the dazzling smile that was spreading over Sammy's lips. "Well then," Sam murmured, "Guess we better get a move on." Leaving Balthial with one last painfully delicate kiss, Sam departed from his lover and opened the motel room door in which to make for the hall and ultimately the Impala. This was it, it was really it.

Balthial appeared at Sam's side with a quick breeze as the hunter strolled across the parking lot. Silently, they both entered the sleek black vehicle, the rumbling of the engine being the only noise in which to fill the still space that clung between them. Sam spun the car around almost in a doughnut formation before finally speeding off towards the main road. He may've pressed just a little harder on the gas pedal than absolutely necessary, but he could really care less. This was Dean he was dealing with here – any wasted second could be his brother's last. It didn't take Sam long to find the alleyway in the warehouse was located. Instead of parking right outside, however, he parked a block or so down. Sam was not about to just walk into some kind of trap.

Parking the Impala next to some kind of body shop, Sam went straight to the trunk in which to pull out necessary firearms. "Perhaps I should go in first," Balthial suggested, feeling his stomach beginning to double over in knots, "You know, make sure everything is safe."

Sam sighed, filling a shotgun to the brim with salt rounds, "They're demons, Balthial. You know it's not going to be safe." Balthial nodded silently in agreement, no point trying to argue with that. Closing his eyes tightly he sighed deeply just hoping that Dean would be alright, that this would all turn out in their favor. "Ready?" Sam asked, slamming the trunk of the Impala down.

"Can we pray?" Balthial glanced upward at Sam, almost hesitantly.

Sam questioned, "What?"

"Can we pray? For strength, for victory?" Balthial repeated, trying to clarify his intentions.

"Well, uh sure," Sam responded. It was a bit awkward, for it'd been quite a while since he'd actually taken the time to pray. Longer than he would've liked to be quite honest.

"Dearest Father," Balthial began, taking Sam's hands in his own, "Give us the strength conquer our common enemy. Please, be with Dean Winchester tonight, oh God. Allow hope to flood through him and just make him want to overcome this, to break through." As the angel continued to pray, his words became more and more jumbled and less and less like English. Not be disrespectful, but at last Sam opened his eyes when his hands began to tingle. It only dawned on the hunter now, that his angel was indeed speaking his native tongue – enochian. "Noasmi lit oiad ge-iad. Iolci oiad homtoh. Amen." _(be with us, Lord. bring us triumph)_

"Amen," Sam echoed, feeling as though a wave of peace had just settled over his heart. He and Balthial exchanged one last longing look before the angel turned and lead them through the dark corridor of the alley. Flattening himself against the wall of the warehouse, Sam peered in one of the cracked windows in which to get an estimate of just what they were up against. "Shit," he muttered, ducking down quick.

"What?" Balthial whispered, his eye widening in anticipation.

Sam swallowed hard, gripping his shotgun so tight that his knuckles were beginning to turn white. He sighed, "See for yourself."

On that note Balthial raised himself from the pavement to gave upon the room which lay just beyond the glass. His eyes widened in dismay as he saw all the dead bodies rotting beside one another. "Oh my," he gasped, clenching his hands close to his chest.

"Are you okay?" Sam leaned in towards his angel, furrowing his brow as he held Balthial steady.

"It hurts," Balthial cleared his throat, "So many souls lost."

Sam remained silent for a moment, simply holding Balthial just because he needed to. Sam understood Balthial's pain, his appreciation for life, he'd been there. Not to say that he disregarded life now, but he could remember the first year hunting again with Dean – it had been a rocky road but Sam had overcome. Now it was Sam's turn to be there for someone else, to help them overcome as well. "Come on, we have to keep moving," he soothed at last.

Balthial nodded silently in agreement, sniffling somewhat as Sam led him around the side towards a rusty entrance. Both he and Balthial had each other's back, covering both sides of the room as soon as they busted in. Lightly they trampled between the dead bodies which littered the floor, finally coming to the main room in which Dean had been earlier. Sam bolted stealthily over to the metal table where Dean's over shirt lay crumpled on the surface. The younger hunter grasped it close to his chest, holding it like it were Dean himself. He let out a pained sigh of desperation and disappointment.

"They've gone," Balthial said, lowering his weapon saddened.

Sam fell to his knees, shirt still clutched in hand, and let out a blood curdling scream. He hated this dilemma that came back to him time and time again. Whenever victory was near, happiness just within reach, it was all jerked away from him so quickly. Like grains of sand slipping through his hands. Always able to taste, but never able to get the full flavor. Never able to chew it down and swallow.

"Easy there, I'm not deaf you know," a woman's voice suddenly rang out from behind them.

Balthial tightened his grip on his gun, both he and Sam turning to face whoever the voice belonged to rapidly. But just as they happened to lay eyes on the figure, she vanished quickly appearing somewhere else in the room. She giggle a bit as she moved from place to place, delighted in just how easily she was able to confuse them.

"Show your face!" Sam hollered, arising from his knees.

"Fine, fine, way to ruin the fun," the woman rolled her eyes, placing her hands firmly on her hips, "Happy now?"

"Who are you?" Balthial demanded, taking a protective step towards Sam.

The woman eyed them suspiciously for a split second before proceeding to answer Balthial's question. "You may call Kimaris, dearest angel," she snickered, flashing her eyes a deep cherry red.

"You're a demon!" Sam hollered, reaching inside his jacket for a flask which bore holy water.

"No shit," Kimaris laughed, raising her hand which shoved both Sam and Balthial backwards and onto the floor, "What was your first clue there, Sherlock?" Leisurely, she strode over to Sam, placing a foot sternly on his chest.

"So what, are you a crossroads demon?" he mused, looking at her intense crimson stare.

"Not quite," Kimaris replied with a sick smile, "But I have been known to barter some souls from time to time."

Balthial struggled against Kimaris's force, trying his best to sit up somewhat. "Where have you taken Castiel and Dean Winchester?" he grunted.

Kimaris then directed her gaze over towards the angel, crouching down beside him in which to knock off his fedora. "Oops," she chuckled sarcastically, "Tell me angel, what shall we call you?"

He gritted his teeth, debating whether or not he should actually answer her. "I am Balthial, angel of forgiveness," he muttered at last.

"Ah, then perhaps you can forgive me this sin," Kimaris mused, leaning in to place a tender kiss onto Balthial's lips. Instead of being completely repelled as he assumed he would, Balthial actually found her kiss rather pleasing. So much in fact, he almost wanted kiss her back.

But then there came a small whimper of jealousy from which of course brought the angel back to reality. "You should not commit such blasphemy," Balthial said, pulling away from Kimaris abruptly.

The demon licked her lips in delight, absorbing every last bit of flavor the angel had to offer. "I've always been curious as to what an angel tastes like," she sighed, turning back to face Sam, "I can see why you like it so."

Sam looked dumbfounded there for a second, wondering how in the world she was able to know that. He quickly recovered though, nearly growling, "Where the Hell is Dean?"

"You should watch your tone with me, young Winchester," she warned, towering tall above him. With a swift fling of her leg, her foot came crashing roughly into Sam's ribs.

Balthial gasped out as he watched the demon continue to beat the living crap out of the hunter, kicking him and punching him in various parts of his body. And suddenly, he caught sight of his shotgun, discarded just off to his right. Stretching as far as his arms would allow, the angel's fingers managed to touch just the edge of the weapon seeming to push it even further away. Balthial took a deep breath, reaching out once more for what he so desired. He could hear Sam cry out in pain which of course only made him strive harder to grasp a hold of it. Finally he was able to curl his fingers around the shotgun's barrel, bringing it close to his chest before cocking it. This sudden click caused Kimaris to turn suddenly and face Balthial. That was a fatal mistake – squeezing his finger around the trigger, Balthial fired a shot right into her chest. Boom! Another, and another.

Kimaris went stumbling back, falling onto the concrete with blood beginning to seep from her hosts skin. Her force was immediately released in which Balthial hopped over towards Sam, crouching down to overlook his lover. "I'm fine, I'm fine," Sam insisted, little spurts of blood flying from his busted lip as he spoke. The hunter nodded over in the direction of the weekend Kimaris, Balthial turning stealthily to walk towards her.

He leaned down, only to jerk her upward viciously by the collar of her host's shirt. "Where have they gone?" he demanded, his voice filled with a terrible rage.

Kimaris swallowed hard, trying to speak but her voice very faint as her throat was most likely dry. She leaned in close to Balthial's ear as if going to whisper the location, instead biting him roughly on the neck. The angel screamed out in pain, trying to force the demon off of him but her grip was strong. At last he jerked her away, throwing her to the ground.

Sam watched in utter shock as droplets of blood began to pour from Balthial's neck. Rising weakly he began to shout out, "Exorcizamus te, omnis immundus spiritus omnis satanica potestas, omnis incursio nfernalis adversarii—," _(we exorcise you, every impure spirit every satanic power, every incursion of the infernal adversary…)_

But the young hunter's words were interrupted, as Kimaris threw her head back and a great black smoke emulated from her mouth. Both Balthial and Sam ducked down, watching as the charcoal colored cloud smashed itself against the roof of the warehouse before flooding over in every direction in which to escape. Sam panted wildly, it had been a long time since he'd just shouted an exorcism out at a demon. Collapsing to his knees once again, Sam let his head hang low. Balthial was quickly at his side however, wrapping his arms tenderly around his waist in which to hoist him up. "Come on, let's get you up," he groaned, lifting the Winchester up despite his own wound.

Sam caught site of the deep bite Kimaris had managed to afflict him with, watching as a thick river of crimson was pouring down from the nape of Balthial's neck and towards his collarbone and ultimately his chest. He spoke out gently, for his ribs hurt severely, "Balthial, I—,"

"It will be fine," Balthial interrupted him quickly, "She did not strike a major artery."

Sam seemed to relax somewhat, still very concerned though as Balthial continued to lead him out of the warehouse and into the alley from which they came. Sam grunted somewhat as Balthial attempted his best to load the young hunter into the passenger's side without difficulty. The angel then climbed into the other side of the car, clutching one hand to his wound in which to stop the bleeding. He was surprisingly good at driving with one hand as they sped down the road and back towards the motel. "I can't believe he wasn't there," Sam admitted in defeat, his voice barely grazing a whisper.

"You shouldn't lose faith Sam," Balthial tried his best to assure the hunter, his own voice fairly dim.

"But where could they have gone?" Sam sighed in exasperation.

"We _will_ find him, I promise you," Balthial reassured, turning to face his lover, "They cannot be far."

Sam just turned to stare out the window, each breath becoming more and more painful as some of his ribs were probably broken. "I just hope you're right," he mumbled under his breath. He glanced upward at the pitch dark sky, noticing how tiny raindrops were beginning to fall and plaster themselves against the world. He wondered in this moment if it was raining where Dean was.

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The van full of a hunter, an angel, and two demons had plunged on through the night until finally coming to a small wooded area. There they drove down an obviously unpaved road until coming to a cabin-type structure at last. Castiel swallowed hard as the demons slapped Dean awake, loading both of them out of the vehicle and into the small house. The wood smelled damp and musty, like it had just been sitting here empty and abandoned for who knew how long. Flaura and Aamon carelessly tossed them into a rather secluded room, unlocking Dean before slamming the door. Dean instantly tried to smash it open, but that did little good – it was bolted tightly.

"Son of a bitch," the hunter muttered, slamming his fist against the wood of the door one last time.

"Cursing will do nothing," Castiel said flatly.

"Oh, well thanks for the info there Einstein," Dean huffed, leaning against one of the walls. He instantly saw Castiel's hurt expression and softened up a bit. "I'm sorry Cas, I'm just pissed is all. How you feeling?"

Castiel let out a soft sigh, "Not so well. Gaap has not given me a moments peace – my head feels as if it will explode."

Dean crouched down beside his angel, overlooking the bruises which were beginning to form on Castiel's face. He felt so terrible that Cas had to suffer like this. "You know," he cleared his throat, "Sammy always says that a massage helps with stress. He's kinda a chick like that."

Both Castiel and Dean chuckled at this remark, Sam really could be surprisingly feminine at times. "Oh really?" Castiel murmured, a slight grin pulling at the corners of his mouth.

"Would you like one?" Dean asked, his voice so hushed it was almost inaudible.

Castiel caught his hunter's gaze, feeling like a wave of relaxation had just washed upon him. "Sure," he replied with equal quietness.

Dean shifted in front of his angel, positioning himself awkwardly over Castiel's outstretched legs. Then, lifting his trembling hands to either side of Cas's head, Dean began to rub in slow circles over the angel's temples. Castiel was surprised at how gentle his touch was – he'd expected Dean to be very rough and forceful, but that was not the case at all. Slowly, Castiel could feel his eyelids beginning to droop and finally close at a pleasurable tingling feeling coursed over his scalp. Dean smiled silently to himself, watching Castiel's facial expressions change almost seductively as he continued to massage along.

Finally a low moan escaped Castiel's lips as Dean began to direct his fingers to the back of the angel's head, twirling and twisting his fingers caressingly through Castiel's lovely strands of hair. "You like that?" Dean asked, finding himself leaning in even closer.

"Oh yes," Castiel swallowed hard, feeling the blood in his veins beginning to flow faster, his heart pump harder. And then, unexpectedly, Cas could feel his member harden in the confinements of his pants. His eyelids flashed open suddenly, revealing those ocean deep irises in which Dean loved.

Dean swallowed hard, realizing that they were indeed only inches from one another, practically sharing the same air. He abruptly stopped massaging the angel's head simply to gaze at him, to marvel in his beauty. "Cas," he murmured breathlessly.

"Dean?" Castiel replied, equal enthusiasm hinting in his voice.

"You know I'd never hurt you, right?" Dean asked, suddenly feeling afraid and very small in the angel's sight.

Castiel tilted his head to the side in that adorable manner, which of course only turned Dean on more than he already was. "Of course," he replied innocently.

"But, well, don't you think things would be a lot easier if we just go this over with?" Dean inquired, internally bracing himself for rejection.

Castiel remained silent for a moment, his eyes never leaving Dean's. "You mean if I fornicate with you?"

Dean licked his lips semi-awkwardly, "Well yeah, I mean if you wanna put it that way."

"Dean, I don't think you fully understand the situation," Castiel cleared his throat, finally breaking their stare in which to glance downward.

"Maybe not," Dean retorted, cupping Castiel's cheek delicately in his hand, "But I do understand that it's hurting you. And God, Cas I'd do anything to make it stop."

Castiel could feel his breath hitch in his throat, looking fearfully into his hunter's eyes. "You realize if we do this, there is no going back Dean," he said simply.

"I know," Dean replied quickly, falling silent shortly thereafter, "But no regrets, right?"

Castiel nodded solemnly, "No regrets."

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**Author's Note: ****hides behind sofa

Please do not kill me, I beg of you! I know it was extremely mean of me to leave you on such a cliffhanger but I just couldn't resist it, I couldn't. Besides, I'll be updating soon so you'll all get to find out what happens haha. Really hope you liked it, thanks for reading!


	12. Satisfaction

**Disclaimer:** I own nothing, Supernatural belongs to Eric Kripke and large television corporations such as the CW. Any and all of the following is completely fictional and fan-made.

**Author's Note:** See? I told you all I was going to update really soon and I am indeed a man of my word… well a woman. You get the idea!

Anyhow, I don't know how to feel about this chapter to be quite honest. I personally am very happy with the way things are going, but I have a gut feeling that a few of you will be pretty pissed off at me by the time you get past the first paragraph – I can only hope you'll keep reading to the end haha =P

Well, I shalln't stall any longer. Just as a fair warning though there is a fair amount of love making in this chapter so be aware! Without anything further, please enjoy!

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**Chapter Twelve**

Dean wrapped his fingers around Castiel's neck, drawing him ever closer in which to kiss the angel meaningfully – _purposefully._ Castiel, in turn, kissed with equal passion, driving his tongue deep into the cavern of Dean's mouth. The hunter groaned with immense pleasure, slipping his hands along Castiel's slender sides in which to remove the angel's trench coat. With a light thud, the jacket came crashing down onto the floor below only to be forgotten in the two men's' feverishness. Dean then proceeded to undo the buttons of Castiel's dress shirt – one by one, slowly reaching towards the bottom. Castiel lightly toiled with Dean's short and spiky strands of hair between his fingers, feeling a needy and lustful pressure building deep within the pit of his stomach.

At last, both men had managed to remove their clothing articles left only now to complete the final stage of this romance. Dean helped to position Castiel atop the trench coat in which they had flattened and spread out as some sort of cushioning means. The hunter heaved slightly as a result of seeing his lover completely nude for the first ever time. Reaching a hand upward, Castiel delicately cupped Dean's stubble-covered cheek in his hand feeling the warmth of his hunter's flushed flesh radiate through him.

Dean just gazed lovingly into Castiel's sapphire deep eyes, feeling the purity and essence of this divine angel seep right into him. And in this moment, Dean was happy. Happy that he was about to lay with Castiel instead of Gaap, happy that he could finally give his angel such a long overdue honor, but most of all happy that he could be with Cas tonight among all other people. Yes, this probably meant that the world was going to go to Hell because of this, but at least Dean could get his little slice of Heaven (how corny was that?).

"Cas," he swallowed hard, still gazing intently into the angel's beloved puppy dog eyes, "You ready?"

Castiel could barely make out Dean's words above the sound of his own heart racing. With trembling hands, Castiel grasped a hold of Dean's sweaty forearms bringing his lover so close that his breath added to the moisture already upon his face. Without even bothering to answer Dean's question, Castiel thrusted the hunter deep into him, closing his eyes in which to try and make sense out of this twisted painfully pleasured experience.

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Balthial's eyes flashed open as if he had just been suddenly awakened. Every sense within his body, every nerve and every emotion, had just been felt all in one incredible moment. Balthial's breath hitched in his throat as he tried to contain himself, gasping out for the breath. The angel closed his eyes, placing his head in his hands as he leaned partially over the bed upon which he sat. It had happened – Dean and Castiel had done it. They'd completed the ritual, Castiel had lost his virginity. Balthial knew exactly what this meant, what was to happen to next. It was written that when an angel consented to having his innocence obtained by a righteous man, that the chosen man would then become an immediate vessel. Therefore, it didn't matter that Dean didn't want Lucifer to ride around in his skin, he really didn't have much a choice. Because of this ritual, Lucifer no longer needed the hunter's permission to take him over which of course gave the enemy an astounding advantage.

Letting out a shaky sigh, Balthial shut his eyes tightly a sickening guilt wrenching in his stomach. "Hey," Sam murmured, hobbling out of the bathroom archway, "You okay?"

Balthial turned slowly, watching his battered lover slowly collapse onto the bed beside his own. He avoided Sam's gaze as he lied once more, "Fine. How do you feel?"

"Well, I've felt worse," Sam replied, chuckling somewhat which of course only made his ribs ache even worse.

Balthial remained silent for a moment further, before raising himself from the mattress in which to approach Sam. "Perhaps I can help then," he said, taking a seat on the edge of Sam's bed.

Sam frowned somewhat at him, watching as the angel took a deep breath before stretching out his palms in which to place upon the hunter's body. "What are you—,"

As Sam tried to speak, he was quickly interrupted by an overwhelming force that coursed through his whole body. Like small electric shockwaves, they pumped through his veins healing every bruise and broken bone. At last, when this miracle aiding was complete, Balthial heaved for breath pulling away from the Winchester. Sam panted in equal exasperation, breathing the air without any of the agony he felt before. Falling back onto the soft mattress and pillows, Sam grinned widely. "Thank you," he said in a hushed voice.

"You are quite welcome, it was the least I could do," Balthial responded, steadily arising from the bed upon which he sat.

Sam furrowed his brow, jumping up quickly in which to snatch his angel up in his arms. "Balthial, what's the matter?" he asked, pulling Balthial close to him so that they could stare into each other's eyes.

Balthial swallowed hard, his gaze never breaking from Sam's. "Sam, I," he hesitated, "I don't want to hurt you."

"What? How are you gonna hurt me?" Sam urged, holding Balthial's cheek tenderly in his hand.

"Believe me, Sam, it's better off that you did not know. That in itself will hurt you," Balthial whispered, finally directing his eyes downward as if in shame.

Sam grasped the angel lightly by the chin, directing his head upward once more. "Well I'm not afraid," the hunter declared simply before pressing his lips to Balthial's.

Balthial fell into some kind of lustful trance almost instantly, melting into Sam's warm embrace. That sick poisoning feeling was coursing from his mouth to the rest of his body, but that's what he loved so much about their relationship. He loved how it slowly corroded him and exposed the true desires that really lurked within him. Forcefully, Balthial curled his hands up Sam's shoulders before pushing the hunter back in which to land on the bed just behind. Sam grunted somewhat as they fell, keeping their lips disconnected only for the briefest of seconds before rejoining them with a wet and sloppy embrace. Taking control of his hunter, Balthial pressed Sam down to the mattress, continuing to force him there every time the young hunter tried to arise. Grasping either one of Sam's wrists within his hands, Balthial also pressed them to the mattress as well as if binding his lover. Sam let out a needy moan as Balthial kissed his neck just beneath his chin slowly working downward.

Leaning upward, Balthial repositioned himself over top of his hunter so that one leg was spread on either side of Sam. Both he and Sam breathed heavily, their faces flushed from such immense foreplay. Quite honestly, Sam had never thought that an angel would be capable of such acts. It felt wrong, infecting something so pure, but Sam just couldn't resist for Balthial was just so delectable. And then, almost as if on cue, Sam caught sight of it – the bite mark Kimaris had left on the angel's neck. Balthial had been so worried about fixing Sam up, keeping him safe, that he had obviously neglected his own injuries and their needs. A small crimson droplet of blood still oozed from the wound, and Sam couldn't help but lick his lips hornily Balthial began to undress himself.

Sam eagerly helped the angel with the task of getting off both of their shirts until both men were left simply in the pants. With his supersonic strength, Balthial still had Sam pinned tightly to the mattress, but Sam had had quite enough at this point. Using strength of his own, Sam forced himself up before flip flopping their positions so that Balthial was now on the bottom. Sam writhed at such dominance, in fact he loathed how the angel looked so squeamish and trapped beneath him. Leaning in, Sam once more joined their lips in short pecks, quickly moving towards the angel's damaged neck.

"Oh, Sam," Balthial cried out, grasping the back of Sam's sweaty neck with equally sweaty fingers as he felt his lover beginning to suckle on the still tender skin.

The light taste of irony blood brushed against Sam's lips, but even that wasn't enough to satisfy his craving. Opening his mouth somewhat, Sam bit down up Balthial's already punctured flesh trying his best to match up his own teeth line with Kimaris's mark. Balthial's eyes widened at this, grasping Sam even harder as this had suddenly just become rather painful. Still, never the less, this whole dominant vampire freak thing really turned the angel on to be quite honest. And so, Balthial curled his toes his breath ragged in his throat as Sam continued to drink his lifestream.

It only took a moment longer for Sam to come to reality and actually realize that he was indeed drinking from his lover, raw rust color blood decorating his lips. Pulling away from the angel's neck, Sam panted looking Balthial dead in the eye. Lust still clung colorfully to the angel's iris indicating that he didn't mind, that he still wanted Sam. That he, himself still wanted to have his own innocence corrupted by this chosen man. Quickly removing their pants, it didn't take long for them to get down to business. Still grasping Balthial forcefully, Sam began to thrust into his lover watching fixatedly as Balthial writhed in pure ecstasy beneath him. The angel certainly was a whiny mess, always screaming and calling out whenever the chance was provided – why, if some random Joe Schmo walked into the scene right now, he'd probably think Sam was raping the poor angel. Still, Balthial's cries only did more to arouse Sam who now was pumping as fast as he possibly could. A droplet of sweat trickled down Sam's temple, in which the hunter threw his head back and gasped rampantly.

Balthial grasped the bed sheets desperately within his fingers, arching his back as Sam came suddenly inside him. Both hunter and angel cried out in unison, bodies colliding in one hot and sticky embrace. At last Sam collapsed next to his lover, still heaving in exhausted huffs. Balthial curled up next to Sam, laying his head just over the spot on the hunter's chest where his heart would lie. The angel could hear a steady beat of _boom, bo-boom, bo-boom, boom_ repeating over and over again and he admired it so. Glancing upward, he and Sam shared a dull gaze in which Balthial leaned upward just a bit in which to share what he thought would be a quick kiss – he was wrong. Instead of allowing Balthial to retreat away from him immediately, Sam held onto the angel's head lightly within his hand, playing some kind of tongue war game. Balthial groaned in low pleasure, running his hands over Sam's sweaty torso feeling every dip and curve there was to be had. At last the two parted lips in which to lay back against the bedding and fall into a deep and wondrous sleep.

Balthial was the first to awake in the morning's early light, throwing the sheets off him and stretching his legs out painfully. He grumbled in slight irritation, feeling rather sore from he and Sam's intense pulsing into the night before. That, and he rubbed over the spot in which the hunter had so hungrily fed upon him, stroking the now scabbed wound lightly with his fingertips. The angel jerked in surprise, feeling Sam's hand upon his back. Slowly the angel turned to face his lover.

"Hey," Sam murmured, his eyes dreamy with a dopey smile covering his face. His hair was flopped down partially on his forehead which made him appear even more irresistible.

"Good morning, Sam," Balthial replied cordially, still staying put in his place on the far side of the bed.

Sam frowned somewhat, propping himself up on his elbow as he scooted over somewhat towards his angel. "What's wrong?" he asked, his voice still hushed from coming out of its still sleepy state.

Balthial looked away from his hunter, swallowing hard and feeling as though this guilt would overtake him. "I," he hesitated at first, "I should get going." With that, Balthial stood up and began to reach for his clothes which were scattered about on the floor below.

Sam immediately bolted up in bed hearing his lover's words. He hadn't the slightest clue as to what was going on here but he was determined to find out. "Wait, why do you have to go? Where are you going?" the hunter asked.

Balthial said nothing for a moment, continuing in the task of collecting his clothing articles. "I just, it's better if I do," he responded quietly.

Throwing the covers off his own body, Sam hopped up and strode over to Balthial, grabbing him roughly by the shoulders. "Balthial, look at me," he commanded, "What's going on?"

The angel replied slowly, "Perhaps we should dress first?"

"Alright," Sam compromised, heading for the bathroom door, "Just don't go running off."

"Where exactly am I going to run to, Sam?" Balthial questioned innocently.

"I dunno, why don't you tell me?" Sam retorted sarcastically, closing the door behind him without another word.

Balthial sighed almost shamefully, shaking out his pants before beginning to slip them on over his legs. Carefully he dressed himself, slipping back on one piece of clothing after another. At last, he smoothed out his vest and daintily place the fedora back upon his head. Almost as if on cue, Sam arrived fully dressed as well from the bathroom looking as normal as ever. Quite frankly, Balthial was just surprised that his angelic blood did not do anything to alter the Winchester's mind as the demon blood had. Somehow, he'd hoping for well… a recovery maybe? Like his blood would completely heal the boy and he could be whole. But alas, twas not meant to be.

"So what's all this about, Balthial?" Sam asked sternly, folding his arms over his chest.

Balthial let out a small sigh, standing directly across from the hunter. "Sam I, I don't want to hurt you," he cleared his throat, locking gazes with the young Winchester.

Sam licked his lips, waiting a moment before responding to Balthial's words, "Secrets are most guilty of that. Please Balthial, just tell me what's going on."

The angel closed his eyes tightly, taking a moment to think about how he was going to explain all this to poor Sammy. Most importantly, just how Sam would take it all. How he would react. "I know why the demons have your brother," he began, "Why they're holding both him and Castiel captive."

"You do?" Sam gasped breathlessly.

"Yes. You see, Castiel had a curse placed on him. This curse made him open to possession if you will. And that's when Gaap, the demon, entered his body. The both of them are incased in a single flesh, but Gaap is using Castiel in which to gain a demonic victory," Balthial responded.

"Okay," Sam said, slightly perplexed, "but what does that have to do with Dean."

Balthial let out yet another sigh, his heart racing as he continued to try and explain everything he possibly could to Sam. He said, "There's a ritual which bypasses consent for angelic vessels. Quite honestly I'm just surprised the angels haven't used it on either of you already. Anyway, in order for this ritual to work an angel's innocence must be, how should I say, _corrupted_ by a chosen man."

Sam frowned somewhat. He echoed, "An angel's innocence?"

"Angels are the purist of all creatures, Sam. Metaphorically speaking, we're like holy virgins. And then, once we enter a human body, we are technically virgins regardless of whether our vessel is or not," Balthial clarified.

It looked as though a light bulb had just clicked on atop Sam's head. "So when you talk about a chosen man corrupting an angel's innocence, you mean having sex with them? Taking their virginity?" he asked.

"Yes," Balthial admitted sheepishly.

"So Dean needs to have sex with Castiel in order for what to happen? For Michael to just automatically take over him?" the young hunter continued.

"Wrong," Balthial corrected him, "The demons captured your brother to try and force Lucifer into him."

Sam's eyes widened in disbelief, his mouth hanging open in pure awe. "Wh- what?" he gasped, "How is that even possible?"

"Because I guess they just got tired of waiting for you. Maybe they figured if they couldn't have you, at least they could get Dean," Balthial said.

"Why didn't you tell me this before?" Sam almost growled, clenching his fists in tight balls at his side.

Balthial took a cautious step back away from his hunter, he could sense the fury radiating off of Sam almost instantly. "Sam, please try to understand—,"

"Understand? Understand?" Sam interrupted Balthial swiftly, "This is my freaking brother we're talking about here Balthial! How could you not tell me?"

The angel continued to take steps back until he was against the nearby wall. Swallowing hard, Balthial stuttered, "Sam, I didn't want, I didn't think it would, I never wanted to—,"

But it was too late – Sam disrupted his sentence once again by stepping forth and slamming the angel into the wall just behind. Next he lifted his fist, bashing it into Balthial's face. Again. And again. And again, he hit the angel repeatedly. Grasping him roughly by the collar of his shirt, Sam crashed Balthial against the wall once more this time leaning in so close that their faces were almost touching. "You can't even come up with a damn excuse," he snarled harshly.

Again the hunter's eyes caught sight of Balthial's wound up his neck. This time, not so gingerly, Sam leant in towards Balthial's injury sinking his teeth into the skin once more. Balthial shrieked as Sam bit down harder than before and began to suck the blood vigorously. "Sam," he coughed, "Sam please. Sam – stop!"

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Castiel let out a soft sigh as he breathed in the scent of Dean's skin. The two sat nestled upon the trench coat still, holding one another in each other's arms. Dean turned his head to face his lover, catching the angel's stunning blue gaze. "Cas, what's wrong?" he murmured.

"Nothing," Castiel cleared his throat, "I suppose I'm just feeling anxious."

Dean nodded understandingly, leaning in close to his angel before trying to reassure him, "Don't worry. Everything's gonna be okay." And even though the hunter himself did not believe those words, he did his best to make Castiel believe so as he kissed him tenderly upon the lips.

Castiel's hand wrapped over the back of Dean's still semi-sweaty head, kissing his hunter back with much enthusiasm. The two continued their loving swagger, ignoring the world around them. Even as the door to their room opened they continued to kiss, not bothering to pay attention to Flaura's presence. "Oh gag me," she scoffed. At this, the two broke apart in which to look upon her wearily. "If you two are quite finished, Lucifer would like to have a word with you."

"Yeah, well you can tell him to wait just a damn minute," Dean retorted.

"You mind your tongue," Flaura threatened, taking a furious step forward. Castiel quickly put up his hand in which to block her, glaring cerulean daggers at the demon. Flaura raised her eyebrows at such a gesture, considering how both her and Aamon had beaten the crap out of Castiel only hours earlier. "What's this?" she taunted in sarcasm, "Angel wanna play?"

Castiel made a sound that resembled a growl, Dean placing a firm hand on his shoulder. "Just give us a minute," he urged, his gaze locking on to Flaura's.

The demon smiled smugly, stepping back towards the door. "The countdown begins," she muttered, closing the door behind her as she exited.

Dean and Castiel shared a look of anticipation and fear for the briefest of moments before beginning to dress themselves. Castiel, who stood in an untucked dress shirt and his black slacks, glanced wearily at his stained trench coat in disgust.

"Guess you won't be wearing that for a while," Dean chuckled somewhat, slipping his own shirt over his head.

Castiel sighed, "Looks like it."

"Hey," Dean murmured, taking a step closer to his angel, "Everything's gonna work out, Cas. You'll see."

Castiel kissed Dean lightly on the lips shaking his head. "No Dean, it isn't," he replied solemnly, turning to make for the door.

The angel stepped first into the other room, followed by Dean shortly thereafter. "Not on the dot," Flaura remarked, not even bothering to look up from her fingernail picking.

"Ah blow me," Dean spat, folding his arms tightly over his chest.

"Oh Dean," Lucifer murmured stepping forth into the room, "That's no way to greet your new superior."

Dean frowned, clasping Castiel's hand in his own protectively as the devil came even closer to them. Castiel could feel Dean's palm sweating in pure terror, turning to give him a sympathetic look. "What are you talking about?" the hunter asked, his voice coming our hoarse and afraid.

Lucifer was only mere feet from him now, smiling lightheartedly. "Dean, the time has come. I'm going to make you my vessel, you instead of your brother," Lucifer declared.

"I'd rather go back to Hell first," Dean choked, feeling his insides tremble.

"No Dean," Lucifer remarked, placing a hand lightly on Dean's shoulder, "You really have no choice."

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**Author's Note: **Whew! I got way to excited (not in the sexual way) after writing this chapter! I was all smiley and shizz… kinda creeped my brother out xD I'm just very pleased that it's all coming together now. **sighs happily

Anyhow, I hope this didn't disappoint any of you and that you enjoyed. Thanks for reading!


	13. Above And Beyond

**Disclaimer: **I own nothing, Supernatural belongs to Eric Kripke and large television corporations such as the CW. Any and all of the following is completely fictional and fan-made.

**Author's Note:** Ta da! So here it is, yet another chapter to hopefully satisfy you… for the time being at least haha. Anyhow, I must really thank** Luciel89 **for all her support in this story. It's been a blast getting to talk to her and I enjoy the eagerness for me to upload. Hope you enjoy lady ^_^

And that goes for the rest of you too, enjoy!

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Balthial's vision began to darken in the corners as Sam continued to drain the life out of him. His eyes crossed over into one another, unconsciousness – or death – threatening to overtake him. And then, a sudden light appeared amidst the blurring blackness. A light so pure, so bright and glistening, one could almost assume it was Heaven itself. And in this light, Balthial seemed to find the support he'd been silently praying for in which to aid him in his struggle, to renew his angelic power and strength.

And so, using his newfound might, the angel grasped Sam firmly by the forearms and ripped the hunter from his body. Sam flew back only to come crashing down onto the floor below, starting up at Balthial in awe. Light speckles of blood decorated his lips, making him appear even more animal-like than before. "I said no, Samuel," Balthial declared, his voice hoarse as he spoke.

Sam blinked vigorously, as if being jerked back to reality like a dog being yanked along on a leash. Slowly he reached a hand up to his lips, examining the red liquid tainting his fingers as though it were some kind of poison. "Wh- What have I done?" the hunter stammered, his hands beginning to tremble uncontrollably. Balthial let out a soft sigh, examining the now very punctured wound on his next, feeling as though he might fall over from his legs shaking themselves. Then, suddenly, Sam collapsed onto the ground curling himself into a fetal position. He gasped out in pain, a light sweat already beginning to form upon his brow. Despite all that had just happened, Balthial quickly knelt at the hunter's side, ignoring the blood that was trailing down his neck. "Balthial," Sam cried out needily, "What's happening to me?"

Balthial cradled Sam in his arms holding the young hunter close to his chest. Happening to glance at Sam's inner wrist, the angel could see the blood in his vein very accented against his tan flesh. The color was more of a violet than that of the typical blue, the blood itself running thick and sluggish through the artery. "It looks like my blood is counteracting your demon blood," Balthial mused at last, now directing his eyes upward to the hunter's face, "Sam? Sam?"

Sam's eyes were rolling back into his head, his mouth hanging open limply. Balthial felt a wave of panic wash over him as he gazed upon the hunter – he cared, deeply, for Sam. He held a passion much stronger than just what they had shared in the bedroom, and there was simply no way he was going to allow the hunter to die. Still, there were other duties which called to his attention. Dean and Castiel had indeed completed the ritual, but there was no way that Balthial could tell whether or not the Winchester had already been taken over by Lucifer. It was as though he were a limp foal, caught at a crossroad path in an unfamiliar forest.

On one hand, he could stay. He could nurse Sam back to health and prevent any further pain more so than what the hunter was already experiencing. But, on the other hand, he could go. He could easily determine Dean's location and get to him before it was too late. Although, there was no guarantee that Sam would make it if indeed he left.

Bringing Balthial quickly back to reality, Sam stirred mumbling something in hysteric gibberish. "It's okay, Sam," the angel reassured him, "You'll be fine, there won't be any more pain." Then, with a touch of two fingers, Balthial placed them upon Sam's head and the hunter was immediately unconscious. Arising with a grunt, Balthial hoisted Sam up and spread him out atop the nearby bed. "I'm sorry, Sam," Balthial murmured, turning quickly towards the door, "I'm so sorry." And with a simple shutting of the motel room door, the angel was out of sight.

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"Come again?" Dean cleared his throat, eyeing Lucifer who stood before him.

A devious smile curled the edges of the devil's lips as his gaze darted between hunter and angel who stood hand in hand. "Well," he said, "I gotta say, I'm a bit surprised Castiel here didn't tell you himself."

Dean immediately turned to face Castiel, having a very, very bad feeling about this. "Tell me what? Cas, what's going on?" the hunter asked, his voice coming out a little more desperately than he would've liked.

Castiel sort of avoided Dean's heavy gaze, shamefully directing his eyes towards the ground. He sighed, "Dean, please—,"

"Cas," Dean interrupted the angel promptly, squeezing his lover's hand just a little harder in reassurance.

"Yeah Cas," Lucifer sneered, "Why don't you tell him?"

Castiel raised his eyes to look into Dean's once more, stating, "You took my innocence, Dean. Invaded and stole my purity."

"Well jeeze, don't make me sound like a criminal or anything," Dean snorted in sarcasm.

Castiel shook his head in dismay, "I don't say that to condone you Dean. It's just that—,"

"By doing so, you just condemned yourself Dean," Lucifer interrupted Castiel, almost proudly.

"Meaning?" Dean frowned.

"I'm going to take you as my vessel, and this time I don't need your consent," the devil replied.

Dean's face fell to a sickly white color, looking as though he might throw up any second. Lucifer looked as though he were about to speak once more when another voice suddenly echoed within the room, "I think not!"

All heads turned to face this sudden intruder – an angel. A wounded angel at that. Flaura, grasped hold of her dagger preparing to swiftly charge towards this prowler. "Wait," Lucifer commanded, and immediately the demon paused in her step, "Just who might you be."

The angel heaved for breath, the wound on his neck rather evident to those who all who gazed upon him. "Quite frankly Lucifer, I'm surprised you don't recognize me," he said, "But you look the same as ever, I see."

Lucifer furrowed his brow, cocking his head to the side in a manner which very much resembled Castiel. "Balthial?" he questioned, his voice faint.

Flaura's eyes darted between the two, a growing suspicion building in her heart. "You know him?" she asked.

"We once served in the same garrison," Lucifer cleared his throat.

Balthial challenged this, "But of course, that was before you fell."

"Forgive and forget, brother," Lucifer retorted, taking a step towards Balthial who was shaking his head in disappointment, "Why have you come?"

"You can't honestly believe I'm just going to allow you to take this Winchester as your vessel," Balthial declared, "I won't allow it."

Lucifer smiled smugly, crossing his arms over his chest, "Last I checked, none of this was yours to decide. You must realize the ritual has already been completed, there's no stopping it." At this, he threw a glance over his shoulder in the direction of Dean and Castiel who still were intertwined.

"Wrong," Balthial insisted, glaring immensely at Lucifer.

Meanwhile, Castiel had been watching Balthial absorbing a different meaning behind his words. He gasped lightly in utter shock, realizing just what his brother had meant. "Cas, what's wrong?" Dean murmured.

At this, Lucifer turned wanting to know just what was going on. "What is it?" he ordered.

"Balthial, he's—," Castiel tried to explain, his voice trailing off.

"What?" Lucifer insisted, taking a furious step towards Castiel, in which Dean stood in the way in hopes to prevent any damage from befalling his angel.

"You're not the only one who knows about rituals!" Balthial shouted, catching the devil's attention just in time, "You see, I know all about the corruption of an angel's innocence. I know that it can bypass consent, but I also know that it can be counteracted."

"Counteracted?" Dean stammered.

"Yes, by the same ritual being performed simultaneously," Balthial admitted, "I've lain with Samuel."

Dean's mouth dropped in awe – Sammy had gotten it on with an angel? _Damn…_

"Are you telling me that you slept with the other Winchester, just to offset the ritual?" Lucifer huffed, beginning a slow but unnerving walk in Balthial's direction.

Balthial kept his head up high in confidence, "Yes."

Lucifer halted in his tracks, gritting his teeth in pure hatred. With a snap of his fingers, a figure appeared behind Balthial, quickly wrapping its arms around the angel in which to prevent him from moving. "Looks like you're about to get fucked," none other than Kimaris snickered in his ear.

She looked completely different, yet he recognized her immediately. "Kimaris," Balthial nearly snarled.

"The one and only," she replied smugly, "Oops, no time to chit chat." Almost immediately following the demon's words, Lucifer's fist came slamming into the angel's ribs. Blood shot from Balthial's lips, spewing all over the front of Lucifer's vessel's shirt. The devil proceeded to continue beating Balthial, punching and slapping his face until it was almost completely covered in blood.

Suddenly Dean appeared behind Lucifer with a metal pipe, in which he proceeded to beat the devil over the back of the neck. Castiel could hear the metal bashing all the way from where he stood, fighting off both Aamon and Flaura, and so he quickly glanced over his shoulder in which to examine the situation. His eyes widened in horror as he watched Lucifer turn towards Dean and threw the hunter across the room with supersonic force. Dean came smashing into a nearby brick wall, busting through it and landing on the floor in the next room. "Dean!" he cried out.

Taking this sudden weakness to his advantage, Aamon threw a punch to Castiel's jaw in which caused the angel to stumble back and nearly fall. Cas could sense Flaura trying to sneak up and attack him from behind, in which he turned to face the direction in which she ran embracing himself for her arrival. As the demon lunged towards him, Castiel ducked beneath her flinging her over his back and ultimately right on top of Aamon. The two came crashing to the ground, Castiel racing into the other room in which to help Dean. The angel knelt down beside his lover, cradling Dean's head lightly in his hands. "Cas?" Dean mumbled, blinking vigorously as his vision blurred in and out, "I'm okay, I'm okay."

The two exchanged a quick reassuring smile, their attention being directed elsewhere as they heard a pained scream emulate from Balthial's lips. Dean nodded at Castiel to help him, in which the angel arose and swiftly ran to aid his brother. Dropping down towards the floor, Castiel extended a leg outward kicking Kimaris in the back of the knees. The demon loosened her grip on Balthial, who instantly took advantage of the situation and slipped from Kimaris's grasp. Meanwhile Lucifer, who had pulled his arm back, had a delayed reaction in Balthial's escape and socked Kimaris right in the center of her mouth. She flew back actually happening to land on Castiel, in which both of them pummeled onto the floor below. Kimaris regained her balance almost instantly, turning over and sitting atop Castiel. She wasted no time beginning to punch his face in, hitting him swiftly with numerous punches at rapid speeds.

Seeing this from afar, Dean hoisted himself up and hazily managed to stagger across the room to where Kimaris was beating Castiel. Sneaking up behind the demon, Dean clenched her tightly in a chokehold and plunged Ruby's knife into her back. One, two, three, four times! Sparks exploded from her mouth, and light echoed within her veins. Good thing the hunter always managed to keep that knife handy…

"Dean!" Castiel shouted, his eyes widening in fright at the sight just behind his lover. Dean swiftly to see Aamon charging at him, looking like an animal ready for the kill. Dean yanked the blade from Kimaris's back and embraced Aamon in the stomach with it as the demon reached him. Just as before, flickers of yellow and orange coursed throughout the designated body of Aamon and soon the dead host fell to the ground.

Dean heaved with breath, his vision slowly beginning to spin once more as he wasn't exactly clear-headed just yet. Turning slowly, he extended a hand in which to help Castiel up the angel taking it graciously. Still, an anguished cry kept both hunter and angel on their feet as they quickly directed their sight upon the far corner of the room. There stood Flaura, holding Balthial tightly with his angelic blade hovering just under his sternum. Castiel gritted his teeth, lunging forward when Dean quickly grabbed him back by the collar of his jacket. "Cas, wait," he urged, nodding towards an droplets of blood which were slowly oozing from Balthial's palm.

Flaura, however, seemed not to notice as she yanked Balthial even closer towards her the tip of his blade actually beginning to poke through the fabric of his clothes. "Now Dean," she huffed, "You _are_ going to let dearest Lucifer take over your body."

"Or what, you'll kill him? I don't even know the guy!" Dean exclaimed.

"But Castiel knows him," Lucifer suddenly remarked coming around from behind the pair, "His blood would be on your hands."

Dean exchanged a worried look with Castiel, the angel's deep blue eyes filled with utter sadness. Castiel turned his head away from Dean slowly, looking at Balthial with much regret. Through his battered face, he managed a smile understanding that it was truly all for the best. "I think I can live with that," Dean cleared his throat at last.

"But can you live with this?" Lucifer mused, snapping his fingers. In an instant, Castiel was curled over with his hands grasped closely to his chest.

"Cas? Cas, what's wrong?" Dean gasped breathlessly, wrapping his arms around his angel in which to steady him, "What the Hell did you do to him?"

Lucifer smiled evilly, "Oh, just unleashed the animal inside if you will."

"I- It's Gaap," Castiel managed stammered, "He's trying to overrun me."

Just then, Balthial managed the power to bash Flaura in the stomach and wrap his hands around her own which were still clasping his blade firmly. Twisting her arms around, he jabbed the blade upward beneath his underarm and plunged it into the demon's side. Flaura screamed out in pain, letting the angel fall from her grasp in which to tend the wound. "Go, get him out of here!" Balthial screamed, bashing Flaura in the face, "Now!"

"Come on, Cas you gotta zap us outta here," Dean murmured into his angel's ear.

"Dean I, I can't," Castiel heaved, shutting his eyes tight in agony.

"You have to," Dean urged placing a tender kiss upon his lover's lips, but pulling away hastily, "Please."

Grasping a hold of Dean tightly, Castiel lifted a hand in which to place two fingers upon Dean's forehead. In a confusing whoosh, the two of them were gone with nothing but the sound of rustling feathers to indicate their presence. Meanwhile, Balthial panted in exhaustion. Sighing wistfully, he allowed his eyelids to dip shut if only for the briefest of moments. A single crystal tear trickled down his blood stained cheek as images of his beloved Sam flashed before his eyes. He was quickly brought back to reality, however, as he felt Lucifer's immense grip around him as the devil attempted to choke the life out of him. Balthial simply squeezed his right hand, in which he held a razor-sharp pieces of glass, and watched as a thick river of crimson began to pour from his flesh. Then, lifting his right hand to his left, he conjoined the two. A massive banishing sigil had been carved upon his left hand, and so as he joined bloody flesh to equally bloody flesh an immaculate white light emulated away from him body. It washed over the room like a tidal wave, causing an electric burst to explode over the land.

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Dean and Castiel didn't make it far, only a few miles from where they were being held captive before Cas had to give up. As soon as they had made it to a clearing in the woodland, the angel toppled over in pain coughing blood and wincing in pain. "Cas? Cas?" Dean gasped, pulling his angel close as he held him in his arms, "Damn it, Cas stay with me!"

Dean could see from looking into Castiel's eyes that the angel's vision was going in and out – some kind of shock was settling over him. Weakly, Castiel raised a hand in which to wrap around the back of Dean's neck bringing the hunter closer. He breathed deeply before entwining his lips with Dean's in a moist embrace. Dean, in turn, deepened their kiss feeling slightly sickened by the taste of thick strings of blood which entered his mouth through Castiel's. Pulling away, he took the time to examine his angel furrowing his brow as he saw the wounds about him beginning to heal themselves. The skin surrounding a scratch upon Castiel's forehead literally began to stitch itself together as Dean watched it, an unsettling feeling growing in the pit of his stomach. Directing his focus towards the angel's, or what he thought was an angel, eyes Dean noticed they were darker than just moments earlier.

"I've missed the taste of your lips," the creature staring back at Dean, who was now Gaap, smiled smugly. Sending his fist under the hunter's chin, Dean went flying back away from his lover landing a few feet away on the hard ground below.

Dean grunted as he stood up, looking at Gaap with fury ablaze in his eyes. "You son of a bitch," the hunter growled, "Why can't you just leave him alone, huh? You saw what happened with Sam angel what's-his-face, you can't win."

Gaap smirked deviously, which quickly turned into a rumbling laugh. "Dean, Dean, Dean, do you really think that's what it's all about? I mean, yeah I can't say I'm not disappointed that you Winchesters can't keep it in your pants when it comes to angels, but that doesn't mean I still can't have my fun. Castiel is, well, a very _interesting_ specimen indeed," Gaap tormented.

By now, the two had edged towards one another beginning to circle each other with opposing stances. Dean could feel his heart racing, he had to save Cas. "I'mma rip you apart, I swear I—,"

"You're not going to do anything," Gaap interrupted him sternly, "Because if you do, Castiel will feel it all. The pain, the anger. It's all going to affect him there, Deano."

Dean secretly pulled Ruby's knife from its place in his jacket, silently debating his next move in his head. Then, lunging at the demon, Dean swung the knife towards his arm. He figured that if he could at least get Gaap scared, things might work a little better to his advantage. Gaap was fast though, he ducked and curved and avoided the blade almost every single time. _Almost._ Dean swung it around once more, landing a swift slice into Gaap's forearm. The wound glowed with light ember flecks of orange, as Gaap stumbled backwards in pain. Dean regretted his decision instantly – Gaap hadn't been lying about Castiel feeling the pain. As he watched Gaap's face, he could see his eyes swiftly changing between demon and angel. A most devastating transformation if there ever was one. Still, Dean knew he had to defeat Gaap, knew he had to save Cas and let his angel be free. And so, he raised the knife in his hand ready to plunge it at the slightly weakened demon.

But then, there suddenly came a bright light to the right of them. Both demon and hunter were able to temporarily put their battle on hold as both peered at the strange visage, shielding their eyes in fear of going blind. As this person – _thing – _continued to come forth, the outline to a rather tall body could be made. Long muscular arms, long legs, sturdy frame – all silhouetted, of course. Dean lowered the knife somewhat, peering at this strange person in awe. "Sammy?" he stammered.

At last, Sam appeared in view of both Gaap and Dean. Even the demon looked afraid at this point, as Sam stood before them radiantly. He was not as bright as he had been just moments before, still, there was an aura about him which could not be mistaken. His skin looked more shimmering, healthier somehow. His eyes were alight with pure power, but not that demonic power that Dean had witnessed just months before. It was almost as if, as if Sam was like his old self again. Like that college kid Dean came and found when they first began searching for their dad. And in this moment, Dean felt purely happy. So happy, in fact, that could even bust down crying if not for the current circumstances.

Gaap, on the other hand, was not so content as just to stare in amazement. Shouting out what almost sounded like some kind of battle cry, the demon began to run towards Sam ready to beat the living snot out of the hunter. "I don't think so," Sam said simply, his voice low but not sinister.

Raising his hand, Sam easily pinned Gaap against a nearby tree much like he had done with Alastair and many other demons before. Dean watched in utter astonishment as Sam stayed calm and composed as he turned his hand upward into a fist murmuring something that Dean couldn't quite understand. Then, a golden light flashed in Gaap's eyes, his veins becoming a light as Sam continued to murmur on. There came one final jolt before Sam released his grip and watched Castiel's limp body slide down to the base of the tree. Sam heaved heavily for breath, rubbing his head in exasperation. Dean threw him one more shocked glance before running over to aid his angel.

"Cas," he whispered, leaning in close in which to hold the angel's face in his hand.

"I'm here Dean," Castiel replied, his voice hushed and his movements faint.

Dean swallowed hard, his heart still thudding roughly in his chest. He asked, "How you feeling?"

A light grin flickered across the angels lips. "Better than ever," he said, "Gaap, he's gone." Dean smiled widely in relief, bringing Castiel even closer in which to kiss him tenderly upon the mouth. The angel was so weak that he could not even manage to wrap his arms around Dean's neck, and so he just puckered his mouth in which to further entwine their kiss. At last Dean released his lover, turning over his shoulder to face Sam who still stood just behind. "He's gonna need a hospital or something."

Sam nodded, "We should get him to Bobby's. He'll know what to do."

"Yeah," Dean agreed. Wrapping his arms, around Castiel's waste he helped to pull the angel upward. Sam, in the meantime, also joined Dean by the angel's side lifting one of Castiel's arms over his shoulder in which to help support him. Dean and Sam just exchanged a quick look of appreciation and understanding before making their way through the woodland in which to find the nearest road. It was going to be a long journey to South Dakota at this rate…

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**Author's Note: **So this is _not_ the last chapter, but I just thought I would let you know that the ending is approaching. I'm thinking either the next chapter or one more after that should be the end, so I hope you're all liking the outcome.

I'm going to be gone for about a week camping so that means no WiFi… über sad face! =[

Haha, anyway though it will be a nice experience and so I plan to enjoy it. So yeah, you won't be hearing from me for a while but I've got a notepad with me so I'll be sure to keep writing while I'm gone!


	14. Epilogue

**Disclaimer: **I own nothing, Supernatural belongs to Eric Kripke and large television corporations such as the CW. Any and all of the following is completely fictional and fan-made.

**Author's Note:** Alright, so don't ask me why it's taken me so long to get this out. I've been going through this weird "I want to write but I can't for some reason" faze lately. It's not that I'm lacking inspiration… I don't know, perhaps will power? Whatever it may be, I think it's finally passed so I can get on with the goodies.

Anyways, here you are with the last and final chapter of this story. Again, I apologize for not getting it out sooner but I really hope you enjoy it just the same. I'm pleased with it. Without anything further, enjoy!

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**Chapter Fourteen**

Castiel grunted lightly as both Sam and Dean helped to lay him out on a cot that Bobby had organized him in one of the study rooms. It had been a long ride to the hunter's house, Castiel drifting in and out of consciousness while being held in Dean's arms all the while. Sam had volunteered to drive, and made no snide remarks about Dean and his relationship. It was one relief, among many of his other worries.

"So," Bobby interrupted the angel's thoughts, rubbing a hand over his forehead wearily, "What's happened this time?"

"Gaap is gone, Sam obliterated him," Castiel declared before anyone else had a chance to speak.

Bobby turned to look at the younger brother nearly in disbelief, an uncomfortable shyness spreading over Sam in both Dean and the elder hunter's gaze. "What?" he shrugged innocently.

"Boy, don't what me," Bobby snapped, "How'd you do it?"

Sam threw Dean a glance, who knitted his eyebrows together in sympathy encouraging his brother to answer Bobby's question. Truth be told, Dean had just as much curiosity as anyone wanting to know the explanation behind the situation. "Don't freak out, okay?" Sam said first and foremost, trying to embrace his colleagues for the secret behind his shocking strength, "Angel blood."

At this, Castiel shot up from where he'd been lying, ignoring the pain that coursed through him in just utter astonishment. "What?" he murmured in a hushed voice, his heart echoing loudly in his chest.

Bobby took a cautious step away from the boy standing before him whereas Dean, in contrary, stepped threateningly forward. He'd known that Balthial guy and Sam had, well, slept together but this was a different matter entirely. If Sam had fed on one angel what was to stop him from doing it again? Cas was in a weakened state enough as it was….

"Angel blood, are you freaking kidding me?" Dean spat, gripping Sam firmly by the collar of his jacket.

"Just chill out," Sam defended, quickly slipping from Dean's grasp. Power still surged through him, Sam could feel it in his veins, but he didn't want to use it unless completely necessary. And he especially didn't want to use it on Dean, Bobby, or Cas for that matter.

"Chill out?" Dean echoed, "How am I supposed to chill out Sam? We're just going in circles aren't we?"

Sam felt a sudden burst of anger bubble up inside him at Dean's words. He replied sternly, "No we're not. It's not like that."

"Oh really? Then enlighten me," Dean order, his tone thick with near mockery.

Bobby spoke up, not wanting to see any physical violence result of this news, "Dean—,"

"Bobby," Dean cut him off quickly, "I wanna hear what he has to say. The so-called _difference_."

Sam let out a long drawn sigh. He should've known this is how Dean was going to react. But, then again, there was no way he really could've kept this from his brother – the confrontation was inevitable. He began, "The angel blood, I dunno, it doesn't work the way demon blood does."

"What does that mean?" Bobby frowned, his voice remaining calm and considerate despite the situation.

"It's not as addicting," Sam clarified, "Well, at first I could hardly stop, but then – I can't explain it. All I know is that it's not like I _need_ it or anything."

"You sure about that?" Dean arched an eyebrow suspiciously, crossing his arms tightly over his chest.

"Yeah, I'm sure Dean. It gives me powers, it lets me do things I never thought possible, but I know when enough is enough," Sam retorted, pronouncing each and every word with precision.

"It would make sense Dean," Castiel urged suddenly, "The effects may be similar to that of demon blood, but such a substance is made to corrupt. Angel blood is pure, it wouldn't make sense to cause an addiction. Not to mention Ruby was conniving, purposefully deceiving Sam. I'm sure Balthial would never have such intentions."

"Why did Balthial let you drink his blood anyhow?" Dean asked swiftly, the wheels of doubt still cranking fiercely in his head.

Sam could feel heat creeping along his cheeks at Dean's inquiry. Shifting uncomfortably, Sam directed his eyes towards the ground almost in shame. "He didn't," the hunter sighed sheepishly.

"Come again?" Castiel nearly commanded, his senses becoming truly awakened at the thought of anyone, not just Sam, bringing any forceful harm to one of his brothers.

"I mean, at first he did," Sam swallowed hastily, "A demon, she uh bit him there, and then when were together one thing just led to another—,"

"Images Sam," Dean coughed, interrupting him. This, thankfully, helped to release the building tension which was forming between Sam and the angelic party of the room.

Sam waited a moment, clearing his throat before trying his best to continue onward, "For some reason afterward I just couldn't seem to help myself though. It was just like the sensation – I needed more."

Dean's face still looked doubtful. "Needed?" he questioned.

"Again, as much as I dislike to admit it, Sam's desires do make sense," Castiel muttered through gritted teeth.

"Wait, I thought you just said angel blood wouldn't be addicting?" Bobby said, befuddled with the Castiel's bizarre logic.

"That's not what I mean," Castiel explained, "If Balthial granted Sam even the lightest of tastes, then it is reasonable to assume Sam would want more. Humans are naturally needy, as well as selfish, creatures. It wasn't addiction, it was lust."

No one spoke for a moment, Castiel's words seeping into each of the hunters with different recognition. "Thank you," Sam nodded at Castiel finally.

Castiel frowned, tossing Sam a distasteful glare which caught even Dean off guard, "I'm not defending you. I'm merely sorting out your thoughts which are too scrambled to be described properly."

Dean couldn't help but smirk deviously at the über bitchface Castiel had just scorned at Sam. Score one for the wounded, yet entirely sexy, angel. Zilch for the lonely blood-sucker sitting alone in the corner. "Well you have fun with your kinky drinkings," Dean cleared his throat, slowly stepping away from where the group was clustered, "I need some air."

"Dean," Bobby called after him lightly, "Don't wander off."

Dean nodded before closing the door behind him. Almost as soon as his brother was outside, Sam melted into one of the nearby chairs placing his head in his hands. Lightly, he ran his fingertips through the strands of his hair sighing deeply. Hearing a creak on the floorboards, the hunter glanced up to see Bobby slowly making his way over to him.

"Let me guess," he snorted lightly, "You think I'm a freak too?"

Bobby folded his arms over his chest, shaking his head sternly back and forth. "No," he replied, "I think you need help son. I mean drinking angel blood – you gotta know there's somethin' not right about that."

"Yeah, I know," Sam admitted, focusing his eyes on his hands which were folded before him dangling down between his knees.

"But you saved Cas," Bobby said, almost finishing Sam's unspoken thought.

"Obviously that really doesn't seem to matter," Sam muttered in frustration, feeling heat beginning to creep up towards his eyes threatening to make them flood with tears. It wasn't so much the drinking of the blood that made him upset to be quite honest, it was the look on Dean's face when he'd said it. It was just like when he first told Dean about his premonitions, and then his abilities, and then working with Ruby…. too many _and thens_. It made Sam feel like a freak, like an outcast. And that, that was what truly hurt the most.

"What, just cause Dean's goin' on a hissy fit?" Bobby retorted, "Boo hoo, let'im get pissed off. That's Dean, you should know that by now."

"I know Bobby," Sam looked up at the hunter, his voice cracking lightly as he spoke, "But I mean did you see the way he looked at me? Do you have any idea what he thinks about me?"

For a long moment Bobby said nothing – if Sam had been blind, he might've even thought the hunter was no longer by his side. "No, I don't," he finally said at last though, "And I ain't got a clue how it must feel to walk in your shoes, but Dean is Dean. There's no changin' that. And you're you. You know what's best for you and you know how to handle yourself, no matter what Dean thinks. And no matter what you do, well, that boy's gonna love you forever. There's nothing he wouldn't do for you, Sam. _Nothing_."

Sam allowed a single tear to drip from his eye and race down the skin of his cheek. He didn't care if Bobby saw, this is who he was after all. He could be all sensitive and _unmanly _at times, but none of that mattered. Looking up with his puppy dog eyes, Sam wrapped his arms around Bobby pulling him close in which to sniffle upon his shoulder. Bobby just held him tight, slapping him lightly on the back for encouragement. And for a moment, Sam felt like he was ten years old again. When they'd visit Bobby, stay for a week or so when John was out on a hunt, Sam would always get upset about something. He just didn't understand why their life was so different, or why they had to travel so much. But Bobby, he seemed to make it better. He always did. And that's one thing Sam was sure he'd always be able to rely on – for that, he was grateful.

"Thanks Bobby," he muttered in a hushed voice as he pulled away, rubbing the salty tears out from under his eyes.

"You bet kid," Bobby smiled, slapping the young hunter on the shoulder. Sam returned with a grin, gradually feeling his mood beginning to lift. "Well, I better get workin' on this here angel." With that, Bobby turned from Sam in which to fetch some bandages and other tools he used in his ever miraculous treatments. How the hunter ever managed to learn to fix up angels was beyond Sam, but that was just one more thing he loved about that man.

Sighing wistfully, Sam relaxed into his chair once more slouching down as he picked up a rather large tome from its place beside him atop another stack of books. Flipping through the dusty pages, Sam really didn't find anything of particular interest, simply wishing to pass the time until he and Dean could talk later. Hopefully, Dean would be willing to apologize for the things he'd said earlier, in his awkward manner of course. In fact, Sam suspected it.

Dean, meanwhile, sat on Bobby's back porch his legs spread out over the concrete steps which led up to the tiny terrace. With a chilled beer in hand, the hunter gazed up at the pitch black sky which was of course littered with stars. That was just one of the many things Dean enjoyed about staying with Bobby, he was so secluded from the lights of the town – you could just look upon the starts until the dawn arose. If he'd nothing better to do, Dean would seriously consider it to be honest.

Suddenly though, ripping the hunter from his mindless thoughts, Dean heard a sudden rustle in the bushes nearby. Pulling his handgun from his side, he arose swiftly sidestepping towards the direction in heard the noise. It continued lightly, almost in a non-threatening manner, coming ever closer. Dean's jaw tightened, his fingers closing tightly around the trigger, ready for whatever was to come next. Unexpectedly, the body of a familiar angel dropped from the shrubbery onto the hard ground below. Dean's expression softened immediately as he tucked his gun away and quickly knelt beside Balthial.

"Hey, hey," Dean muttered softly, trying to keep the angel within consciousness.

"Dean," Balthial smiled pleasantly. Reaching a hand up towards the hunter which towered over him, the angel plastered a bloody handprint to Dean's cheek before coughing and sputtering up blood.

"Hey, easy now," Dean wrapped a hand behind Balthial's neck tilting his head upward in which to keep him from choking, "Just take it easy."

Balthial tried to speak once more, but nothing more than gurgling gibberish could be heard to Dean. Helping to hoist the angel up, Dean curled Balthial over his shoulder attempting his best to make it back into Bobby's house to get him help. "Sam, Sam," Balthial muttered hysterically. He was falling in and out of the darkness of sleep.

"Sam!" Dean hollered as he burst in the door, "Balthial, help!"

Throwing the book he'd been reading aside, Sam was instantly at his feet helping to lower the angel from Dean's shoulder and into his arms. Bobby, in the other room, exchanged a hesitant glance with Castiel who gave him a reassuring nod. He was weak, yes, but right now Balthial required as much attention as possible. He could wait. Bobby wheeled himself over to where the boys had laid Balthial atop a dusty soft, overlooking the blood which was splattered across the angel from head to toe. It was especially accented against the white of his clothes, similar to something you'd see in a horror movie gone wrong.

"What happened to him?" Bobby asked, swallowing hard as he examined that ghastly scene.

"L- Lucifer, he was trying to force Dean to be his, his vessel," Balthial managed to sputter, sleep still threatening to overtake him any moment.

Bobby just stared up at Dean, his mouth hanging open in awe at the angel's words. "Where's Lucifer now?" Dean asked, completely ignoring the look Bobby was giving him.

"I can't be sure," Balthial shook his head slowly, his eyes closed, "I used a banishing sigil, but I, I don't think it was enough to ob- obliterate him." With that, the angel screeched out in pain, a shard of glass cutting deeper into his side as he cringed. Bobby reached out to remove the object which was the cause of so much pain when suddenly the angel melted away. The elder hunter looked completely flabbergasted at first, when he looked beside him only to find Castiel removing his fingers from Balthial's forehead.

Castiel clutched his side as he balanced limply, turning his head to face his colleagues. "There will a time for questions later," he announced simply.

Bobby nodded agreement, clapping his hands together rather loudly. "Sam, help me get bandages together. I'll work on gettin' him stripped down," the hunter ordered.

Sam did as he was told without question, scurrying off into the other room in which to gather the necessary utensils in which to clean up his angel. It was the least he could after, well, _biting_ him. Dean, meanwhile, helped to usher his own angel back into the other room returning him to his cot.

"Hey, you doing okay?" Dean asked in a hushed voice, running a hand tenderly down Castiel's stubble coated cheek.

"I suppose," Castiel sighed, clutching Dean's hand which caressed him.

"Is it Balthial?" Dean questioned, leaning in just a tiny bit further.

Castiel nodded slowly and silently, his blue eyes turning glossy. "He's my brother, I worry for his safety," Castiel said, as though there was really a need to justify his concerns. Dean understood him perfectly.

"He's gonna be fine," Dean assured his angel, taking Castiel's hand in his own, "He's in good hands." With that, he lifted Castiel's hand to his mouth placing a kiss to the back of it. A faint smile flickered over the angel's lips, his grin twisting further as Dean continued to kiss lightly up his fingers before suckling lightly on their tips.

"You're being suggestive," Castiel murmured deviously, as though it weren't the obvious thing in the world.

"And?" Dean questioned, arching an eyebrow, "Just what are you planning to do about it?"

"Well, I could just be suggestive back," Castiel retorted, his eyes focused intently on his lover before him.

"Is that so?" Dean challenged.

"That's so," Castiel said, his steady tone never faltering. Not even as the angel twisted his head to the side and ran his tongue up the side of Dean's hand making the hunter tingle in surprise.

"Alright," Dean chuckled in defeat, "I see your point." On that note, the hunter leaned in, in which to place a firm kiss atop Castiel's lips. The angel received it rather greedily, using his free hand in which to pull Dean closer and envelope him fully.

The two continued to passionately embrace each other, when suddenly another presence entered the room. "Oh, for crying out loud!" Sam cringed, turning away just as quickly as he had entered, "You two are really gonna be doing that now?"

"Damn straight!" Dean hollered, exchanging evil snickers with Castiel. Dean could nearly picture the look on Sam's face in the other room, sure that his brother was shaking his head at the images which would be implanted there forever.

"You know, if that's all you're doin' I could sure use your help out here," Bobby called from the other room. He was busy wiping down Balthial's skin of its caked blood as well as checking for any other major physical injuries to be found. He was covered in scratches, yes, but none were as threatening as the shard of glass which had been piercing Balthial's side. Thankfully though, Sam had helped him to blot up that wound in which to stop the bleeding.

"Bobby is right," Castiel said in a low voice, "You should go."

Dean nodded silently, placing one last kiss to Castiel's lips before heading into the next room. Crouching down beside the other hunter, Dean drenched the bloody cloth Bobby had been using to wash Balthial's skin handing him tweezers and various other tools as requested. Sam, meanwhile, worked on stitching and sterilizing and larger cuts that may still be oozing. Dean glanced over at his brother, who's eyes were intently focused on his work and nowhere else.

At last though, after all other scraps had been tended to, Sam came to the still large bite mark marring Balthial's neck. Dean and Sam exchanged a solemnly hesitant look before Sam began cleaning out the damaged he'd helped to create. A shocking pang of guilt washed over the hunter as he worked, yet still he persevered. Twas the least he could do for putting the angel is such a position. All three hunters worked non-stop, not even when the first light of dawn began to creep over the horizon and shone across the landscape.

When all was said and done Castiel, who had fallen asleep in the other room, was called in to inspect his colleagues' handy work. "He should heal quickly," the angel nodded, his voice gruff despite feeling better himself. His muscles were feeling stronger and for the first time, in a long time, Castiel felt like himself again. There was no space for darkness or doubt of any kind. He was pure.

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Everyone had taken to sleeping during much of the afternoon. Bobby of course headed for his own bedroom, whereas Dean and Castiel had taken over the guest bedroom together. The angel lay upon the old, worn mattress with Dean's arms wrapped tightly over his torso. The rest of the hunter's body curled around his angel so peacefully, they could be mistaken for one flesh. And as for Sam – well, he slept uncomfortably upright in the downstairs parlor. With his neck hanging limply downward, Sam knew he would regret it upon waking, but he didn't care. He had to stay at Balthial's side, he had to make sure his angel would be alright.

And so, as orange settled over the house angels and hunters alike each found themselves arising to face the remains of the day. Castiel was the first to awake, tantalizing Dean with soft whispers until he himself found his eyes flickering open to face the ocean deep ones which stared right back at him. Wrapping his arms around the soft material of his angel's trench coat, Dean drew Castiel even closer enveloping his mouth with his own. Castiel welcomed this motion, suckling Dean's tongue hungrily like an infant against its mother's tit.

Sam actually woke before Balthial, slowly creeping over to where the angel slept in which to run his fingers over his hair gently. "Oh Balthial," he murmured, "This is all my fault. I'm sorry, I'm so sorry." Leaning in even closer, the younger Winchester placed a light kiss on the crown of Balthial's forehead.

"Why is it you apologize?" Balthial stirred, his eyes still closed as though still sleeping.

Sam said nothing for a moment, his eyes caught intently staring at the bandage which cloaked his angel's neck where he had damaged him. "I, I've hurt you," Sam stammered, afraid that his emotions would overthrow his stability at any given moment.

"Samuel," Balthial smiled gracefully, cupping the hunter's chin within his hand, "There is nothing you could've done to prevent what was supposed to happen. It's all according to plan."

"How can you be so sure?" Sam choked.

The angel swiftly moved his hand from where he clenched Sam's chin to rest it upon the flesh above the hunter's thumping heart. "My Father always provides for his children," Balthial declared, "You are indeed forgiven."

Without a moment's hesitation, Sam jerked his head forward in which to lock lips with his beloved angel and never wanting to let him go. "Oh, why are you so good to me?" Sam asked breathlessly.

"Why shouldn't I be?" Balthial challenged, holding Sam's head in his hands and keeping him oh so close.

Sam pulled away gently, taking Balthial by the hands and leading him outside to Bobby's back porch. Balthial gasped slightly at the bright sunlight which took his eyes by surprise, slowly shifting forward with Sam's assistance. Gently bringing him down atop a bench that sat in the corner, Sam wrapped his arms around Balthial's waist and held him close once again. Balthial rest his head upon Sam's sturdy shoulder, allowing his eyes to dip shut if only for the briefest of moments.

Still laying atop the bed upstairs, Dean had himself spread over Castiel towering above his angel with much authority. Both were still fully clothed, but Dean ran his fingers oh so lustfully over Castiel's body eyeing it with decadence. "So uh, we got anymore rituals going down?" Dean arched an eyebrow suggestively.

"Quite possibly," Castiel snickered lightly, making no complains as Dean leaned down in which to caress the skin of Castiel's teeth with his tongue. Instead, the angel cried out lightly in pleasure as he felt Dean slowly but ever blissfully begin to tear him apart.

Turning his head to face the window which was plastered in the far corner of the room, Castiel caught a glimpse of the ginger and magenta sunset which was just beginning to fade into the even sky. Sighing wistfully, he muttered, "Dean."

"Yeah?" Dean questioned, pulling away from Castiel's neck with a long string of spit to follow.

"Look," the angel commanded, gripping his hunter's chin lightly as he turned Dean's head to face the direction he was looking also. The hunter smiled knowingly as he gazed upon the outdoors, feeling as though the warmth of the sun had just crept up inside him.

Both Sam and Balthial jerked as the back door opened in which to reveal Dean and Castiel making their way out onto the back porch. "Thought we might find you here," Dean said simply, closing the door lightly behind him as Castiel took a seat on yet another bench located on the opposite side of the small area.

"The evening is beautiful," Balthial commented, watching as luscious rays of salmon and gold flourished over the tree tops.

"Yeah," Sam murmured in agreement, unable to remove his eyes from the gorgeous angel sitting before him.

"Hey, uh Sam can I talk to you?" Dean cleared his throat rather awkwardly.

"Sure," Sam nodded, scooting over away from Balthial before arising to face his brother. Balthial shot his hunter an assuring look before watching as both Winchesters disappeared into the shadows of the house once more.

Almost as soon as Sam and Dean had retreated away, Castiel arose swiftly moving to sit beside his brother. He and Balthial exchanged a quick friendly embrace, Castiel keeping Balthial's hands tight in his own. "Brother," Castiel smiled, "You look well."

"I feel well," Balthial grinned lightly.

"Are you sure? Do you feel like you're healing?" Castiel frowned somewhat, still feeling concern bubble to surface.

Balthial sighed wistfully before answering Castiel's question. "It will take time to feel fully regenerated, I think, but I know I will make it there eventually. We all will," Balthial said.

"You feel deeply for Sam, don't you?" Castiel questioned suddenly, feeling that Sam's loving presence had something to do with Balthial's speedy improvements.

"Yes," Balthial nodded earnestly, "And you for Dean?"

"Yes," Castiel replied simply.

Meanwhile, inside, Dean and Sam just stared at each other silently for an excruciating moment. "So?" Sam tapped his fingers lightly on his arm.

"Well this isn't awkward at all," Dean chuckled somewhat, feeling slightly relieved as a grin spread over Sammy's lips. "Look, I shouldn't have said those things I said, okay?"

"No Dean, you had every right to," Sam retorted, "I know we're not quite there, you know with trust and all, but I just gotta work harder to keep control."

Dean nodded, not saying anything further for yet another couple of seconds. "And I gotta work harder to trust you," he said at last, catching Sam's surprised gaze, "Truce?"

"Truce," Sam agreed, taking Dean's hand in a firm embrace. Being Sam though, he then pulled his brother tightly close to him just thankful that he could be here with him now as Dean Winchester and not Lucifer.

The two stood holding each other for what otherwise would've been far too long, before finally pulling away. Dean kept a hand tightly gripping Sam's shoulder, smiling at his baby brother just knowing that it would all work out in the end.

"Aww, well ind't that cute?" Bobby mocked lightly, giving the boys a cheerful grin.

"Hey Bobby," Sam replied.

"Hey," Dean also echoed.

"So are you two love birds just gonna stand there, or are you gonna help me bring out this beer?" Bobby questioned, holding up two six packs with another two stashed just behind him.

Dean and Sam exchanged an amused look before helping to retrieve the alcohol from the elder hunter. Bobby wheeled himself out onto the back porch first, holding the door open for the brothers as they brought the beer out to enjoy with each of their angels. Twas a time to be merry. And as each cracked open their bottle, cheering one another with grand toasts and charades, the sun was finally closing down behind the trees the moon shining down upon the lonely woodland house of Robert Singer. It really was a beautiful evening.

– _FIN _–

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**Author's Note:** **sigh I would totally drink a beer with Bobby, Sam, Dean, Castiel, and Balthial. Who's with me?

Anywho, I had a really fun time writing this story and I hope you've enjoyed my ending. I'll admit, it is a bit abrupt I know but what do you want just coming off a writer's block? I was thinking of maybe using Balthial in another fanfiction but I really don't know. We shall see. At any rate though, please keep an eye out for some other stories I'm going to be sure to publish very soon, I have one in mind about our dearest Castiel going missing. Dun, dun, dun!

Thanks so much to all those who have read and reviewed, I cannot thank you enough!

And thank you for reading this last chapter, it's been a privilege ladies and gents!

Sincerely: **-SierraKathleen-**


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